


I Am Yours, And All – Or The Arduous Emancipation Of One Loki Odinson

by black_feather_fiction



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: (not ending in death), Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Abusive Thor, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Amnesia, Amputation, Chronic Illness, Consent Issues, Depression, Disabled Character, Dubious Consent, Electrocution, Everyone is Flawed, Genderfluid Character, Hopeful Ending, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Loki (Marvel), I bear the mark of the evil author, I mean he's not evil but like he's really, I will never truly understand the concept of 'too much whump', It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel)-centric, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Mention of suicide of an oc, Mind Control, Not Canon Compliant, Not Thor friendly, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Poor Everyone, Poor Loki (Marvel), Poor Tony Stark, Protective Avengers, Self-Harm, Self-Indulgent, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, Terminal Illnesses, Thanos is the villain but Thor the main antagonist, Unreliable Narrator, Violence, Warning: Loki (Marvel), as always my description of medical procedures is faulty, look I like killing Loki and bringing him back a lot, no permanent major character death, not a quick fix-it, not heimdall friendly, red flag parade Thor, so I promise I’ll kill Thanos but you’ll have to live with Thor, sort of depending on your definition of death, which you won't enjoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 40
Words: 84,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_feather_fiction/pseuds/black_feather_fiction
Summary: After Odin’s death, Hela doesn’t appear on Midgard, and Thor isn’t interrupted by her in his growing grief and rage at his father’s death. He accidentally kills Loki in his anger, and only barely manages to bring him back. Since his brother would not survive travelling the Bifrost, Thor takes him to Tony to seek medical help. As the Avengers involuntarily get more and more involved in the family dynamics between Thor and Loki, they realise that this becomes all less and less about protecting people from Loki, and more and more about protecting Loki from Thor instead.
Relationships: Loki & Steve Rogers, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark, Loki/Steve Rogers, Loki/Tony Stark, Thor/Constant Reframing, except for Thor/Constant Reframing, maybe, no Loki/Thor in any way, not sure how sexual these ships are gonna be, those two are like bunnies
Comments: 1761
Kudos: 1305





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/gifts).
  * Inspired by [what follows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5209139) by [Lise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise). 
  * Inspired by [Without Grace](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19298983) by [acciojd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciojd/pseuds/acciojd). 



> Find me on twitter: @FeatherFiction  
> I use they/them pronouns :) <3
> 
> So this is a gift to Lise, since it was inspired by a fic of hers (the events of her fic are the past of this one), and it is very, very self-indulgent.  
> Which means there is a hell of a lot of Loki whump, and do not expect me to pay as much attention to the construction of the story as in the Prestige. It will definitely not be as epic, nor as "good" (whatever that means), as it's more of an exploration of an abusive relationship dynamic and a way of getting all that whump I crave out of my system. I put a lot less effort into developing each character as they deserve here.
> 
> It's also inspired by a fic from acciojd (see above) - but I couldn't find that fic again for a while, that's why I only added the inspiration now. Seriously, I read too many fics, and sometimes really don't know anymore where I got what idea from. Sry if I miss an inspiration sometimes, it happens.
> 
> I do not know whether there can be much of a sexual element to the slashes, due to gargantuan Loki consent issues. On a relationship level, it will probably be Steve/Loki, but Tony/Loki and a love triangle between the three is a real possibility.
> 
> Thor is basically how I unkindly interpret canon MCU Thor who is just so strangely inconstant in his emotions about Loki. I mean, really, it's like he really can't decide whether Loki should live or die. It's weird and I don't like it. 
> 
> Again, I'm ignoring Civil War. Bucky is back but is taking some time off in Wakanda and will be pretty much out of the picture for most of the story. He definitely has NOT killed Tony's parents. I also ignore Ultron - Jarvis is still up and running.
> 
> As always you can point whenever I'm talking bullshit about real-life issues (that happens, especially when I'm writing fanfiction because I tend to put a lot less research into that than into my original work), but... medical procedures will always be at least 70% bullshit with me. Fair warning - I even put it in the tags. 
> 
> Length: Ugh, don't ask me. My fics tend to get out of control. And no, it's not finished yet, not even the first draft.
> 
> Updating schedule: Irregular and in batches. 
> 
> WARNING:  
> I said that my description of medical procedures is mostly bullshit, and since Loki is an alien god, I'm taking gigantic liberties concerning medicine and biology too  
> BUT  
> that doesn't mean that issues like chronic illness, disability or terminal illness aren't depicted in a way that is realistic on the emotional and psychological level if not on the medical.  
> The same applies, only more so, for the abusive dynamic and the child abuse background stories of certain characters.  
> So this fic does treat very heavy topics, and all fantastic elements aside, it does try to take those issues relatively seriously.  
> Which means that it might be triggering.  
> Be aware of that please and don't ever feel bad if reading on is too much for you. I will never, ever be angry if you stop reading. Your self-care is always more important.
> 
> P.S.: You never have to ask me if you want to do fics inspired by mine or alternative timelines or fanart or whatever you want. Just go for it!

And just like that, right in front of him, Odin crumbled. Because Loki had faked his death again, and had decided to take over the throne, had banished Odin to Midgard and cursed him, Odin was dissolving right in front of Thor, into little specks of light that he couldn’t hold, couldn’t hold on to anymore, not with all his might. His father who he had relied on for so long, who had always been this very material presence, strong and unmoveable, just crumbled away. Into nothing but light that fled into the sky.

And for a moment, Thor felt dizzy at the sheer scale of the loss. For a moment, he felt like crumbling himself.

Then he felt the anger rise.

And he felt thankful for this anger, because where before, he had felt like dissolving too, the anger was hot and bright and drew everything into one blazing centre. A centre that had a cause, and a target too.

Slowly, he turned to the one he had once called his brother, sparks already running over his hands.

‘Loki’ said he, his voice low and dangerous, and Loki noticed the change at once, already looking at him more warily, already preparing to flee your punishment, are you, snake?

‘This is your doing.’

And fear crossed Loki’s face because he always only feared for himself, the coward, always wiggling away, slippery, treacherous, only this time, Loki had gone too _far_.

‘Thor’ Loki said, eyeing the sparks running up and down his hands. ‘Calm yourself.’

‘Calm myself, should I?’ asked Thor and felt the clouds gather, the thunder already close. ‘Talk it through with you maybe, _Silvertongue_?’

Loki, his eyes still on Thor’s hands, slowly took a step backwards, then two.

‘You know you can’t control your rage very well’ said he and Thor could hear the nervousness in his voice, could see him duck, and that made his anger only burn brighter, because this snake who couldn’t even face what he had done, had been their father’s _undoing_ , and-

Thunder rumbled, close now.

Loki flinched, paled.

He took another step back.

Another thunder, Thor felt the power of lightning run through him, and now he felt strong again, now he felt right – Loki’s eyes widened, his face lost the rest of its colour, he turned around, _ran_.

And Thor watched him run quickly, desperately, and knew as something built up inside him that this time, Loki wouldn’t get away, this time he wouldn’t get anywhere, Thor screamed, power filled him until he was bursting, power that wanted out-

White light arched from the sky in a strange beauty and connected with Loki’s chest, just for a moment, the sky brightening abruptly.

He could see Loki fly through the air, propelled like a doll across the cliff on which they were standing, saw him hit the ground.

Then, the light was gone.

Thor was breathing quickly, feeling lighter for some reason, suddenly very tired at the same time.

He had needed this, he realised. He had been needing this for a long time.

Maybe now they could start anew.

Only the body on the ground didn’t move.

It had just dropped there, limply, and didn’t move.

It started to rain before Thor could shake himself out of his paralysis. He first walked, then ran. He expected Loki to jump up and fight him, to curl into himself, to curse him, to scream.

To twitch at least.

The body did nothing.

And then Thor had reached that limp heap, ‘Loki’ shouted he, ‘by the Norns, get up!’.

Loki had fallen to his side, his face turned into the wet earth, the arm he was lying on standing up somewhat awkwardly underneath the other. The wrist at an odd angle. His fingers curled.

Thor grabbed his brother by the shoulder, pulled.

The body was heavy and slack, and neither helped him nor protested.

His mouth was open, as were his eyes. Thor cradled his face that was so strangely still.

‘Loki’ said he. ‘Stop your trickery.’

The face, somehow, still looked scared, no, terrorised even, even though the eyes were empty. Unseeing.

‘I won’t fall for this a third time’ Thor said. ‘Stop your trickery at once.’

The body didn’t respond in any way.

‘I won’t believe it’ Thor said, holding a hand over Loki’s mouth, expecting to feel breath. ‘You hear me? I won’t believe it this time.’

He felt nothing.

But what did that mean? He felt for Loki’s pulse, on the neck.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

‘Get up!’ shouted he at his brother, shaking him, the head just lolling with the movement. ‘I won’t believe it, whatever illusions you are weaving, so _get up_!’

The face looked so scared.

Thor laid his ear on Loki’s chest, closed his eyes, listened for any sound, waited for any movement.

He screamed when he realised he was hearing nothing, feeling nothing, he straightened himself up and shook Loki again, ‘Do you hear me? I said _GET UP_!’

He was shaking a body. He was shaking just a body.

He stopped, then stroked over Loki’s arms. The clothing wasn’t even burned much, or at least not that he could tell. He would have expected it at least to be burned.

And then he remembered the accident.

He had forgotten it over the many centuries, but now he remembered.

They had been so small – Thor had only just begun to discover his power. He had only wanted to show it to his brother. Nothing more.

The lightning had stopped Loki’s heart for over a minute.

He remembered Frigga saying to Odin that they had only just managed to save Loki’s life. They had thought Thor wasn’t in ear-shot then, but he had been.

‘No’ whispered he, hugging himself. ‘No. No, no, no. Not like that. No.’

Loki’s scared, still face, the empty eyes, told him that yes. Like that. Exactly like that.

But he had done something back then, to bring his little brother back. Hadn’t he?

The other memory came back to him just as quickly and he drew the dagger at once, cut open Loki’s tunic, shoved it away. A smell of burnt flesh – he coughed.

The wound wasn’t too terrible, or it didn’t _look_ terrible – a spidery web of red, angry burns. But it was right in the centre of Loki’s chest… right where the _heart_ was…

‘No’ Thor sobbed, positioned himself, and started to press the chest down, quickly, repetitively, just like he had done back then, just like he had learned very early. Eir had shown them, this last resort if everything else failed.

 _Probably you will never have to use it_ , she had said and smiled at them. _Hopefully, it will be useless knowledge to you all your life._

‘Please’ he said just like he had said that one day when he had wanted to show his brother thunderstorms, and pressed, and pressed. ‘Please, Loki, please.’

There were scars on Loki’s chest, Thor noticed at the same time as he was still massaging his brother’s heart, willing him to return. Strange scars that he didn’t recognise. And there was a long, ragged scar, right underneath the balls of his hands.

He knew what that scar probably meant.

He didn’t want to think about what that scar probably meant.

‘No’ he said. ‘Please, Loki, please.’

He blew air into Loki’s mouth in-between, just like he had learned. Watched the chest rise and fall. Then went back to massaging his heart again. And felt just like he had back then.

Helpless. Like an idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

He had taken far too long before he had started. He should not have doubted what he had seen. He should have started right away. Eir had told them that at that point, every second counted.

And he had wasted seconds being too paralysed to move, then shouting.

He sobbed, but kept pressing, and pressing. Kept blowing air into his brother’s lungs. The rain was still falling heavily, turning everything slippery. The rain was falling into Loki’s mouth. And the body didn’t react to that, didn’t twitch, didn’t swallow. Kept staring dully at the sky. So scared. Loki was looking so _scared_.

When Loki finally breathed in, then convulsed, Thor started crying only harder, out of sheer relief.

But just like back when they were kids, his brother didn’t wake up. He just coughed, started shaking, and Thor knew very well that the real battle had only begun. Only he… only he didn’t know what to do. Loki wouldn’t survive the Bifrost in the state he was in. And yet only Asgard’s best healers had kept him from death the last time.

Loki was stronger now.

But so were Thor’s powers.

He bent down, leant his forehead on Loki’s.

‘I’m sorry’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

Loki’s shivers were already abating. If Thor didn’t get help soon, his brother would just slip away again.

Well, he thought then. So he would have to get help from the Midgardians.

They would not be happy, but… but what other choice did Thor have?

He still had the strange device Stark had given him once.

He activated it, then pressed the buttons that were supposed to connect him to the voice of Anthony Stark.

‘Thunder!’ he heard after some very annoying beeping. ‘Haven’t heard from you in a long time! How’s it rolling?’

‘Man of Iron’ Thor said, pressing Loki’s wrist tightly, feeling for Loki’s already weakening pulse. ‘I have a great favour to ask you, and before you reject me… please, be so kind as to hear me out.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind response this early in the story! <3 Here have the second chapter - I don't know yet how many chapters this first batch will have, but I will tell you when I'm going into hiatus again.

Tony had to be out of his mind. Pepper and Fury and all these other people, some of them professionals, had been right. He had lost it.

This was the only reason he could think of for allowing the architect of the New York invasion getting intensive care in the medical facilities of the very tower Loki had thrown him out of.

Yes, he had to be out of his mind, and also pathetically easily manipulated by weeping gods of thunder.

Well, shit, but the guy could sound _wretched_.

At least, Tony thought, biting his nails while watching the video feed from the medical wing, Loki didn’t look like he was up to any invasion any time soon. Seeing as all the doctors could do was to narrowly keep him from dying.

After Thor had tried to killed him, Tony reminded himself. Had tried to kill him and had very nearly succeeded.

Or _had_ succeeded, depending on your definition of death, Tony supposed. Apparently, Loki had been in cardiac arrest for several minutes.

This family was absurdly violent sometimes – that put the whole invasion thing in a totally new perspective, really.

And now they were pulling off the clothing of his arms, and ugh.

Okay, burns caused by lightning was not what Tony needed to see right now. He wiped the video feed away, called up suit designs instead.

‘You tell me when Loki goes crazy, right, Jarv?’ he asked.

‘What is your definition of going crazy, Mr Stark?’ Jarvis asked.

‘Considering the person we’re talking about, I’d say waking up’ Tony said. ‘Might go crazy even before that though – you never know with him.’

*

They had tried to keep him away from Loki’s bedside.

Thor still had trouble controlling his fury just thinking about that. Loki was wounded, was maybe dying, and they hadn’t wanted him there. Had said something about assault and protocols, but hadn’t the fact that he had brought Loki to them in all haste proven that he was sorry and that he wouldn’t do something like that _again_? That he had never wanted this to happen?

He hugged himself closer. In any case, Mjolnir had made a convincing argument in the end. And if he was never alone with his brother because a healer was always there, hovering, that was just because they want to give Loki the best care, be there for him the moment he needed it.

Even this strange device they had had to use that one time had been used for Loki’s benefit, he knew that now. At one moment, Loki’s heartbeat had grown so erratic, so weak at the same time, that the machines had barely been able to detect it anymore. They had thought they would lose him for good then – he had seen the healers’ nervousness, the sudden haste with which they had moved, had bellowed commands.

And they had put strange metal pads on his chest, and Thor had smelt the electricity, and Loki’s body had _arched_ , and Thor had _roared_ , because how could they dare to harm his brother _right in front of him_?

But Loki’s heart beat had evened out a little after that, and had strengthened. Tony had explained – wearing the suit, and standing between him and the healers, two repulsors aimed at Thor’s chest, but he had explained.

Lightning had done this to his brother. And now they had used lightning, if a much weaker kind, to save him from the consequences.

It was difficult for Thor to understand how that worked.

Thor tried to remember how long he had been unconscious the last time, back when they had been children, how long he had taken to recover. But the first accident had happened such a long, long time ago, and if anything was clear by now, then that Midgardian medicine was in every way unlike Asgardian healing.

For now, he had to contend himself that Loki’s chest was rising and falling. That the annoying beeping of a strange device told him that Loki’s heart was labouring on. The beat was still arhythmical and made the sound of the machine unrestful, maddening. No pattern to get used to because it kept changing.

This was worrying the Midgardian healers greatly, but Thor thought that it was maybe just who Loki was – arhythmical, always changing his tune, and directions. Nothing there to rely on.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the anger down that was still there. That had never really left him.

*

Loki’s heartbeat evened out after a few days, which definitely would help with the whole surviving thing, and all his vitals were strengthening. Thor was almost always in that room with him, hovering, which irritated the doctors and nurses to no end, especially since they had (rather valid) concerns about the safety of their patient, and since letting the perpetrator stay with the victim went against all kind of regulations, but what could Tony do about it? What could anyone do? They had seen what happened if you really crossed Thor. And that one incident with the defibrillator had almost ended very nastily. The doctors and nurses learned to work around him in the end.

At least, Thor’s hovering kept him out of the other parts of the tower, which was a certain relief. Not that Tony had any love for Loki, or didn’t think the little asshole had had it coming, but talking to a guy who had (accidentally?) killed his own brother still was a little… awkward, was all. It also didn’t make Tony feel safe exactly, knowing that Sparkles had such a loose lid on his temper that murdering his own family could just _happen_ like that. It hadn’t even been self-defence, from what Thor had said.

Somehow, dealing with the Hulk was a lot simpler. At least there, the anger management issues were pretty out in the open and, in their own way, predictable.

After another few days, Jarvis informed him that Loki was going into REM phases sometimes in his sleep, his eyes moving behind his lids. When he eventually noticed that too, Thor took that as an occasion to start holding the unburnt hand of his brother and talk to him, pleading with him to wake up, to no (immediate) avail.

Then Loki started to move in his sleep, to shift, sometimes murmuring, and the doctor in charge decided that now was really the moment to throw her patient’s assaulter out.

It… was not a pretty conversation, and Tony decided to attend it in person, the bracelets that could call his suit already on his wrists. Just in case.

And he and everyone present watched nervously as the expression on Thor’s face flickered rapidly between guilt, grief and blazing anger as Dr Marco told him that the probability of Loki waking up was rapidly rising and that Thor could simply not be there when that happened. That Thor’s presence might trigger a panic attack and that Loki had a right to refuse seeing him.

Thor stated several times that Loki was his brother, and that his brother was not so half-hearted as to faint at the sight of his own family, and that nobody could keep him away from him, and that it had been him who had brought him here. That this should convince everyone that he wanted his brother’s best.

Tony heroically held himself back from stating the obvious, namely that wanting Loki’s best and striking him in the heart with a bolt of lightning wasn’t going together that well. Also, he with great effort didn’t add that the whole cardiac metaphor Thor had used to describe fear was maybe not all that appropriate at the moment, considering… about _everything_.

Dr Marco hadn’t told Tony much of Loki’s condition, because of patient confidentiality and all that shit, but it was pretty clear that this injury was something even a god was struggling to recover from. Loki’s left arm was still burnt pretty badly, the spidery reddish webs radiating from the spot where the bolt of lightning had entered his body and where it had left it were not pretty to look at, his left wrist was supported by a splint, and Loki’s complexion was ashy, sweaty, and indicated a fever even though his body temperature was below a human’s normal level. But well, alien and all that, and not even the same species as Thor. Who knew what a normal level of temperature was for Loki anyway?

He, very heroically, said nothing about any of that.

Instead, he said that he was sorry but that what Marco demanded was standard protocol on Midgard, and that he was sure Loki would want to see him as soon as he had woken up (he _severely_ doubted that). And then he offered to make Thor that one drink he had promised him once (in a very drunken state – it was pretty absurd as far as drinks went).

Tony was so not the right person to mollify people, but Dr Marco was there to help too, and somehow, together, they managed to drag Thor away. He made the guy that drink, and then there was an alarm because Dr Doom was bored or something, and they could go assemble with the rest of the team and save Washington DC from an army of Doombots.

Tony had never been so grateful about Doom’s timing.

*

Playing the hero for a while did wonders for Thor, and took his mind very effectively off family matters. And meeting Steve again brightened the Thunderer’s mood to an almost insulting degree – after all, meeting Tony for the first time since the whole Ultron fiasco, Thor had barely looked at him. Well, he had had a dying family member in his arms then but still…

Back in the tower, Tony arranged for the victory feast via take-out and let the others handle Sparkles for a while. He did take Clint and Nat to the side for a moment and soberly told them that if they used the occasion of being granted access to the tower to assassinate Loki or kidnap him or try other equivalent shenanigans, there would be difficult times ahead indeed, for SHIELD in general, and for them in particular.

‘Because who do you think will bear the most of the divine Thor wrath, huh?’ he asked. ‘I granted the two gods sanctuary here, okay? And apparently, in Spice Viking Land, this means something. Thor made me swear on the Norns and everything. Not gonna break an oath on the Norns I made to the one who strikes his _family members_ down out of a bad mood!’

Nat rolled her eyes.

‘Tony, you’ve discussed all that with Coulson and Fury already’ said she. ‘And they’ve agreed.’

‘Reluctantly’ Tony said. ‘After an hour of me shouting at them and Fury shouting at me. He almost popped a vein. And do I trust him? Not one bit. Do I trust Phil? Not after the guy allowed me to believe him dead for so long.’

‘Anyways’ Nat said. ‘As far as I understand that family dynamic, you’re much safer if you’re _not_ related to those two.’

‘You wanna bet my life on that, Nat?’ Tony asked. ‘Because I won’t. And I haven’t forgotten you either, Clint! No putting holes into him, no matter how angry you are! My heart won’t fucking survive getting struck by lightning!’

Clint raised his hands, though he looked pissed in that silent, dangerous way that made Tony antsy.

‘I get the message, you’re scared to shit’ said he. ‘Probably have reason to too. So I’ll behave, alright? We’ll both behave, even though the asshole deserves nothing but a Viking funeral in my opinion. Right, Nat?’

Nat didn’t answer for a moment, her eyes still narrowed. Tony could just see her weighing the advantages and disadvantages of killing Loki (and in consequence risk killing Tony Stark) in her mind.

‘Right’ said she then. ‘We need to stay in good relations with Asgard anyway.’

‘Damn well you do’ Tony said and breathed out. ‘Also, good to know that my life is worth so much to you… not. Now – can you continue distracting this oaf please? Loki could wake up anytime now according to Dr Marco, and that might lead to all kinds of complications, quite a few of them made worse by the God of Hyper-Violent Family Dynamics. Or would that be his father’s title? Anyway.’

‘His father’s, yes’ Nat said and eyed someone over Tony’s shoulder, probably Thor. ‘We will give you as much time as we can. I already have a few ideas – getting him to tell stories usually helps.’

It certainly did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I thank you for this very early very positive response! I'm really happy you like this! <3 :) Here, have a Loki who has just woken up from another near-death/death experience and some non-sexual but all the more dubious consent <3

Nat and the others made good on their promise, and Tony was glad they did. Soon, Thor was in full victory feast mode which conveniently made him absolutely blind to Tony stealing away when he got the SMS from Jarvis that Loki had finally woken up for good.

There had been a few moments of half-consciousness before, but Loki had not seemed to understand much of what Jarvis had said to him then, and had fallen asleep pretty soon again. Apparently, this time, he was more aware.

Tony locked himself up in his office and called up the video feed at once.

The god was still lying in his bed, so that was a promising start, and there wasn’t anyone in his room yet, so that was even better. The room was even still intact, from what Tony could see.

Loki’s eyes were open, and he was looking around, visibly disoriented, his gaze still a bit bleary. He then started to move the fingers on his right hand, the arm, but the movements were sluggish, slow. When he tried to move the left arm, his face twitched, an expression of pain crossing it briefly.

He looked down at himself, frowning at the bandages, at the splint that was supporting his left wrist.

When Jarvis spoke, the god started.

‘Mr Odinson’ Jarvis said. ‘You have just woken up from prolonged unconsciousness. You are injured but not in any danger. Do you understand what I am saying? If so, nod please.’

The frown on Loki’s face deepened, but he nodded.

Then he opened his mouth, closed it again, swallowed.

He breathed more heavily. He slowly, sluggishly, balled his right hand to a fist, opened it again.

The hand was trembling, and Loki let his head fall back into the pillow.

‘Where…’ he said.

His voice sounded croaky.

‘You are on Midgard’ Jarvis said. ‘In the tower of Anthony Stark, where you have been cared for after your injury. I repeat, you are not in danger, Mr Odinson.’

If possible, Loki looked even more confused. His eyes travelled the room again. Then something cleared up in Loki’s expression, and the next moment, the expression on his face turned guarded, closed-off.

‘What…’ he began, then swallowed, cleared his voice. ‘What is to happen with me?’

Interesting phrasing, Tony thought. Not exactly what he had expected. Too… passive for that. At the same time, the tone was flat.

‘I repeat, you are being cared for’ Jarvis said.

Loki scoffed, then flinched from the pain the scoffing had obviously caused.

‘I have… committed crimes on this realm’ said he. ‘So what is to happen with me?’

‘You have been granted sanctuary by Anthony Stark, at least until you are well enough to leave’ Jarvis said. ‘There will be no extradition to SHIELD or other Midgardian parties. Of course, should you violate the rules of hospitality, notably by becoming violent, your state of sanctuary does no longer apply.’

Loki listened closely to this, and his gaze turned pensive.

‘You know about Asgard’s laws of hospitality’ said he. ‘And I haven’t been imprisoned yet – so I take it that Thor is somehow involved?’

Jarvis hesitated for just a moment.

‘You are correct, Sir’ said he then. ‘Please note that retaliating against Thor Odinson would qualify as a violation of those rules. Furthermore, please consider that Thor Odinson has shown no hostile behaviour against you since he arrived with you at the tower. On the contrary, he was very adamant to make sure that you would not be harmed further.’

Interestingly, Loki did not look surprised by that. He just listened, then nodded slowly, and didn’t answer.

Instead, he tried to prop himself up – but he was still moving incredibly slowly and was seemingly too weak for the task anyway. Jarvis responded by making the bed automatically raise the upper part of the mattress. Loki looked briefly disconcerted by the movement of the bed beneath him, but then leant into the mattress again.

‘I… thank you… I think I didn’t quite catch your name?’

‘Jarvis, Sir’ Jarvis said. ‘We have been briefly introduced before.’

Another brief frown, then Loki nodded.

‘I thank you, Jarvis’ said he.

Well, well – who knew that Rudolph knew manners?

‘You’re welcome, Mr Odinson’ Jarvis said. ‘The doctor in charge of your treatment, Dr Yumi Marco, is ready to see you now, if you feel confident that you will not attack her.’

‘Doctor?’ Loki asked.

‘The equivalent of a healer, if I have understood correctly’ Jarvis said. ‘Can she enter this room without risking her life, Mr Odinson?’

Loki didn’t answer at once, looking down at his body critically. He tried to lift the left arm again, the one that was still bandaged, but soon abandoned that visibly painful attempt.

‘Can I refuse treatment?’ asked he then, croakily. At the same time, there was a sudden wariness to his voice.

There was a pause. Probably of Jarvis consulting with Dr Marco.

‘Jarvis, tell Marco that treating a conscious Norse god against his will is probably not that good of an idea’ Tony said.

‘Dr Marco agrees’ Jarvis answered, and the next moment, his voice rang out in Loki’s room again.

‘Yes, Mr Odinson, you may refuse any treatment at any time when you are able to do so. Your word in this matter will be respected where possible.’

Loki nodded, his features relaxing almost imperceptibly.

‘Then yes – I swear on the Norns not to harm her if not in self-defence’ said he.

Tony personally wondered how much of this easy acceptance was due to Loki not being able to do much at the moment anyways. He certainly didn’t look up to much of a fight. But then again, an oath on the Norns was an oath on the Norns, no matter the reasons for it. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and all that shit.

Yumi Marco, to her credit, didn’t seem very intimidated by her villainy patient just because he was conscious now. She sat down at his bedside and told him soberly what her role in his treatment had been and that he had arrived nine days ago. She then told Jarvis to make the following conversation private, but Tony easily overrode that comment – patient confidentiality or not, this was _Loki_.

Protecting Earth and his medical staff just had the higher priority here.

‘Do you remember what happened to you?’ asked she then.

Loki looked at her, his face closing off even more, if possible.

‘You got struck by lightning’ Marco said when Loki didn’t answer. ‘It entered your body through your chest, and exited it through your left hand. You were propelled several feet through the air and suffered a fracture of your left wrist upon impact. You also suffered burns, nerve damage, and damage to your heart. The lightning might additionally have caused neurological damage – we will have to evaluate that. According to what Thor Odinson said, you went into cardiac arrest, probably immediately. He administered CPR – heart massage and ventilation – within a few minutes of the event, and succeeded resuscitating you after a few more minutes. He was unclear about the exact time frame though. When you arrived here, you were suffering from cardiac arrhythmia and needed ventilation. At one time, we had to use a defibrillator – a small controlled electric charge applied to your chest – to prevent you from going into cardiac arrest again. After a day, you were able to breathe on your own, though the cardiac arrhythmia took about three days to abate.’

Loki listened to all of that, his eyes cast down, and then nodded.

‘I am aware that with our limited knowledge about your species, many things I can tell you are to be taken with a grain of salt’ Marco continued. ‘Also, I understand that the bolt of lightning that struck you was not entirely natural. You certainly suffered more burns and more internal tissue damage than a human would have from a normal bolt of lightning. As far as we can judge the matter, the damage your heart took was considerable. I do not know of course how much of that you can heal – your regeneration abilities quite obviously surpass that of a human. But you should be aware that at least for now, as far as our machines can judge that matter, your cardiac output is severely reduced, and I would strongly advise against putting any kind of strain on it. We will try to enable you to leave your bed and care for yourself as soon as your condition allows of course, but you should avoid overexertion and stress wherever possible.’

The god chuckled at that a little, and Tony could certainly relate – avoid stress when the brother who had tried and succeeded to off you was still in the same building with you? Fat chance.

‘Equally, you are showing signs of fever, maybe inflammations, even though judging by human standards, you are at the same time suffering from hypothermia’ Marco said. ‘I suppose your species has a lower body temperature than humans do?’

Loki, for some reason, found that funny too.

‘A tad, yes’ said he then.

‘Is there something you know has helped you cope with fever in the past?’

The god’s gaze drifted off, for a moment, and he looked lost in thoughts.

‘Elder’ said he then. ‘I think that is what the plant is called on Midgard. A brew of elder flower. And …sage… against inflammations.’

Marco nodded.

‘That won’t be difficult to procure’ said she. ‘The eardrum of your right ear has burst – would you describe your hearing as equivalent to how it was before, or do you notice impairment?’

Loki didn’t answer at once. Then he swallowed.

‘What difference would it make if I did?’ asked he.

So yes, Tony thought. He didn’t hear as well anymore.

‘There are surgical options’ Marco said.

‘Surgical’ Loki repeated. ‘That is your word for cutting into people, is it not?’

‘That is simplifying it a bit too much’ Marco said. ‘I do not know how medicine works on Asgard but yes, here on Earth, sometimes you need to cut so to heal.’

Loki’s smile was humourless.

‘I am sure. However, then I say no’ said he. ‘I most politely decline.’

Marco shrugged.

‘It is your choice’ said he.

Loki shot her a _very_ wary glance at that, for some reason.

‘There is another matter I would like to discuss with you.’

The insincere smile widened.

‘I most obviously am at your disposal’ said he, opening his right hand with visible effort in an inviting gesture, then letting it drop on the bed again, looking annoyed at his own pathetic performance.

‘If you need to rest, you can say so anytime’ Marco said soberly.

‘No, go on, don’t concern yourself about me’ Loki said, narrowing his eyes. ‘I am just fine.’

Sure, buddy, Tony thought. Sure you are. That’s why your face is ash-grey and shining with sweat.

Marco looked about as impressed.

‘Do you remember what caused the lightning that struck you?’ she asked.

Loki looked at her closely, and Tony could see him thinking.

‘I think I can guess’ said he then. ‘Was it blond and did it have no more than two brain cells to hold together?’

He said that exceedingly dryly, and his face was open, controlled.

But when Marco nodded, Tony saw it twitch, just a little.

‘So you have no memory of the event itself?’ she asked.

Loki continued to scrutinise her, as if he hadn’t heard the question.

‘Amnesia is common in a case like yours’ said she.

‘I remember just fine’ said Loki then, and something in his face closed shut.

‘Very well. I am not aware how much you know about the legal system in the United States’ said Marco eventually. ‘But as it is, technically, I would be obligated to file charges for assault and attempted murder in your case.’

Loki raised an eyebrow, cocked his head.

‘Who have I killed this time?’ asked he. ‘Or is this about the Chitauri invasion again?’

Marco blinked, momentarily thrown.

‘Mr Odinson, this is about you being the victim of assault and possibly attempted murder’ said she. ‘ _Obviously_.’

And Loki looked so genuinely caught unaware by that, it was almost funny.

Also, very interesting indeed.

‘Thor Odinson has, as far as I’ve been told, admitted to having been the one who has struck you with lightning’ said she. ‘Now Anthony Stark and SHIELD have reassured me that in this case, since you are both aliens in every sense of the word, filing charges is not necessary. They have in fact urged me to refrain from doing so. I must say I’m not entirely convinced by their arguments, since the crime happened on Earth, if not in the States. But since you have been tried in your home country for the crimes you committed on Earth too, I have acquiesced. However’, and there she straightened up in her seat, ‘the matter is not settled for me. Especially not since I couldn’t help but notice scars left by previous injuries while treating you. Quite a few of them. One of them near your shoulder that, even though it seems very old, indicates you’ve been struck by lightning before. Scans of your body equally show signs of previous trauma. Healed bone fractures. Joint strains. Signs of healed damage to inner organs. They are congruent with some forms of torture, or abuse.’

Huh. Okay. Tony certainly hadn’t known _that_. And that, he had to admit, was seriously confidential information. Very, very confidential.

Still.

Since this was still Loki, it was still kinda good to know.

Loki, as to him, looked at Marco, his face from one second to the other suspiciously blank.

‘Or congruent with the life of a warrior’ said he, and boy, his voice was suddenly very wary.

Something was definitely foul there.

‘What happened between you and your brother…’ said Marco, and her voice sounded more cautious now. ‘Is that something that has happened before?’

Loki kept looking her with that blank expression on his face, then he suddenly burst into laughter.

‘My, my’ said he, and grinned, showing his teeth. ‘If I didn’t know better, I would say you are worried for me, dear Dr Marco.’

‘Well, yes’ Marco said soberly, at which Loki’s grin froze a little. ‘I could be looking at a severely abusive relationship, and Thor has made it very clear that he wants to see you as soon as you wake up. Of course I’m worried. That is one of many reasons I will only allow him to see you if you consent. I would like to know if I should take further steps to ensure your safety.’

Loki laughed again, a hard, cold sound.

‘How sweet’ said he. ‘Protecting the murderous maniac who tried to take over your whole planet from his naïve, gullible brother who is so very eager to see the best in him.’

‘And kills him in-between’ Marco said dryly, and very reasonably.

‘Oh, as if I haven’t killed him before’ Loki said dismissively. ‘And pray tell me, dear Dr Marco, what will you do if I refuse to see Thor and he insists upon seeing me? How exactly do you want to shield me?’

‘There are the Avengers’ Marco argued.

‘The _Avengers_ – I am sure they will be very eager to turn against one of their own and die for my sake’ said he and laughed once more.

He cocked his head at her.

‘See, I could break your neck like a twig, Dr Marco. Even in my current weakened state. Thor is stronger than me when I’m at my best. Know your place, mortal – it is not to meddle in the fights of _gods_.’

Dr Marco swallowed. She had paled a little, and Tony couldn’t blame her. Despite the guy looking like shit, he had been seriously scary just there.

But him being scary or not, Tony had still heard what the god had actually said – that he didn’t want the mortals to protect him not because he didn’t need it but because they were not _able_ to.

No, Tony thought, and shifted on his feet.

No, they are gods. Loki’s right, they’re not your gods-damned (hah) business.

Don’t even go there.

‘There are still options’ Marco said because her mind, like Tony’s, was totally going there. ‘We could still help if you feel unsafe-‘

‘Oh, I am perfectly safe with Thor’ Loki said dismissively, and his face closed off again. Huh. ‘You make too much of a mere accident. Yes, I consent to seeing him. Of course I do.’

Marco didn’t answer at once, and Tony wouldn’t have either. This consent was so dubious, AO3 would have given it a tag.

He rubbed his forehead.

Don’t go there, Tony. They’re gods – don’t even…

‘Alright’ said she then. ‘I assume you want to rest before-‘

‘No’ Loki said immediately, some nervousness shining through. Great. It was getting even _more_ dubious now. ‘That is, I… would prefer to be awake when he… I am rested enough.’

…right.

He looked about the contrary of well rested. He also had started fidgeting with his right hand.

Again, Marco hesitated before speaking, and she looked blatantly unconvinced.

‘If you are sure-‘

‘I am’ Loki interrupted her, then fled her eyes.

Sure.

That was why he was balling the blanket in his right hand after Marco had left. That was why his eyes flitted across the room, as if looking for an escape.

He was totally fine with how things were progressing, wasn’t he?

Fuck.

‘Jarv, what’s Thor doing?’ asked Tony. ‘Show me the feed of the living room area.’

Thor was apparently telling a story about some trolls he and his friends had defeated. Nat looked bored behind her expression of rapt interest. Steve was smiling politely. Clint had snuck off and was playing video games, but Thor hadn’t even noticed.

Well, at least Sparkles was in a good mood.

‘Dr Marco asks permission to tell Thor that Loki is ready to see him, Sir’ Jarvis said.

Tony sighed, and rubbed his forehead.

No. He wanted to say no. Because judging just from the little that Loki’s behaviour and his body language had told him…

You’re just being paranoid, Tony. You’re projecting. This is not your business. This is _so_ not your business.

And Loki was right – how was he going to stop Thor from visiting his brother anyway?

‘Okay’ said he. ‘Okay. Tell her to wait until I’m down in the medical facilities, with the suit on, then she can go ahead. I will not be in the same room, but in the one adjacent to it, monitoring the situation and intervening if necessary. If any of those two divine idiots shows signs of getting violent, sound the alarm. And Marco and all the other doctors and nurses should get out of the area then, ASAP.’

He had so not asked for this, for acting as the mediator in what looked more and more like a dysfunctional Norse god family dynamic, where conflicts lead to world invasions, world destructions and mutual murder attempts.

But it looked like this was _exactly_ what he was going to get.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki have a conversation. This is fine.
> 
> So there are two more chapters I want to post for this batch, just so to get to a better point in the plot where to leave things off for a hiatus, but they are not beta'd yet - so if it takes me more than a day or two to post the next chapters, don't be surprised!
> 
> Also, all my love for entropy_by_ophelia who is beta'ing this fic too! They are a true treasure, and make your reading experience considerably better because they mercylessly keep me straight about my writing :). Except for medical procedures - there, they have completely given up on me, which I can't blame them for, really.

Thor didn’t know what he had expected, but it still scared him how sick Loki looked in that bed. He knew there was no sensible reason Loki should be better now that he was awake – even though he did have a history of recovering astonishingly quickly once conscious.

As it was, Loki’s complexion was still unhealthy, the circles under his eyes almost like bruises, giving his whole face something gaunt. Well, he was thin at the moment, wasn’t he? Thor had barely noticed before, but now…

And Loki’s skin was shining with sweat.

The upper end of the bed had been raised to support him and he didn’t look like he could have sat up out of his own strength.

His eyes were blood-shot, a little glazed over with fever. His lips looked dry, and they were bluish, as if he were cold.

‘Thor’ said he, and smiled, but there was something hesitant to it. You are not really happy that I’m here, are you? ‘I hear you were eager to come to my bedside. Where does that sudden solicitousness come from, I wonder? You’ve never liked spending time in the healing halls before.’

The tone of his voice was soft, soothing, and yet Thor could hear the reproach underneath it, and the irritation stirred at once. Why did Loki always have to remind him of every moment of inattention on his part, even when it had occurred centuries ago…

He sat down in the seat at Loki’s bed.

‘I was worried sick. You were severely injured this time’ said he. ‘You almost died. I almost _lost_ you.’

Loki’s face twitched, lost its smile for a moment, but the next it was back (liar).

‘Yes, I heard that you wrestled with Death herself for my life’ Loki said. ‘And succeeded. Another feat worthy of the mighty Thor.’

Another reproach underneath the assertion.

‘I would not have had to wrestle for your life if I had not struck you first’ Thor said, pushing away his anger. He was in the wrong this time. He knew it. ‘I’m so sorry, Loki, I…’

He swallowed.

‘Please believe me that it was an accident’ said he, reaching out for Loki’s hand. It jerked back, but he grabbed it, squeezed it. Because Loki was always slipping away, always leaving, and Thor just couldn’t bear that anymore. ‘I was… in turmoil, with father… and you, who had faked your death again, had led me to believe you lost _again_ … Loki, I’m sorry, believe me, I am. It was a terrible accident.‘

The hand in his was shaking, and Loki was looking away, shoulders hunched.

‘Please, Loki’ Thor said, reached out, cradled Loki’s face, turned it back to him. ‘Do you think it gives me pleasure to hurt you?’

Loki’s eyes were cast down, still refusing to look at him. Always something to hide.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He closed his eyes, breathed out.

‘Of course not, brother’ said he.

And Thor pulled Loki towards himself, leaned their foreheads against each other. He felt Loki trembling.

‘We have hurt each other terribly in the past’ Thor said. ‘You betrayed me, you attacked me and those I love, you committed vile, dishonourable crimes. You made me mourn for you, _twice_.’

You were your father’s death.

‘I know-‘ Loki began, but Thor interrupted him.

‘But I want to go forward, not backward’ Thor said. ‘And I never want to hurt you again.’

Loki hesitated, then nodded once more.

He pulled away, out of Thor’s grasp, and for a moment, that made Thor’s heart pound. But he was just tired, wasn’t he?

‘Now’ Loki said, looking away from him again. ‘I will probably have to rest a few more days before-‘

‘Of course you have to rest, you-‘

‘-but I do hope that you do not plan to leave me here, for the mortals to deal with me?’

Thor sat back, startled. Frowned. Where was this coming from?

‘Of course not’ said he.

‘That… is a relief’ Loki said, and breathed out. Why had he even thought- ‘Was there something else?’

Thor blinked, feeling lost – in a matter of moments, Loki had taken the conversation away from him, and he didn’t know how to get back control of it anymore.

‘No, I-‘ he began. ‘Yes – how… how are you doing?’

‘Fine’ Loki breathed. ‘Recovering. I will not waste the healers’ time for much longer, I promise you.’

‘You aren’t wasting anyone’s time, you-‘

‘I’m tired, Thor’ Loki said, and fled his eyes. ‘If you are satisfied…’

Thor opened his mouth – _satisfied_. Far from. But what was there to say?

He stood up, then stretched out his hand to take his brother’s. But Loki jerked away again.

The next moment, Loki smiled warmly (liar), took Thor’s hand into his own.

The fingers were just a little too warm, and damp. Shivering.

‘I apologise’ said he. ‘You know me – I’ve always been shy with touch.’

And yes, he had been, for a long time now. Not quite like that, however. He hadn’t forgiven Thor yet.

And what about _my_ hurts? Why do you always have to provoke me until I lose control and-

‘Aye’ said he, and nodded. ‘Aye’

He felt tired too when he had left the room, and not anymore like feasting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another small chapter.
> 
> Also, I think I raised expectations with the tags of this fic that I won't be able to fulfill (within this particular fic). So I'm making a few things clear here and will think about how to adapt the tags so to make it clear there too:
> 
> \- there is no Loki/Thor slash in this fic, whether consensual or not  
> \- the domestic abuse Loki suffered and is suffering is emotional/verbal/physical, not sexual  
> \- there will be no abusive Avengers in this fic, though there might be accidental dubious consent (not sure about that yet)  
> \- I tagged the rape/non-con mostly because of past rape/non-con (committed not by family members), and because of off-scene rape/non-con/dubious consent within the fic. I do not plan to write detailed non-con scenes within this fic, or if so, only in terms of a flashback
> 
> Also, if you do not see the red flags of Thor's parade yet, do not worry - it is the nature of red flag parades that they are surprisingly easily overlooked if you do not know what to watch out for.

Alright, so maybe Tony should have foreseen that, but ever since Loki’s regaining consciousness, things started to get steadily sketchier.

It had started with that conversation between him and Thor that Tony had watched with a vague uncomfortable feeling spreading in his guts. He had pushed that feeling to the back of his head – not your business, not your business – and had promptly dreamed of Howard that night.

Which was just _peachy_.

And then there was the fact that after having slept for another twelve hours, Loki woke up once more, and a few minutes later, from one moment to the other, suddenly looked… fine.

Healthy.

From one instant to the next, his skin lost its pallor, the feverish shine, his lips turned red and he even looked like he had fucking gained weight, for fuck’s sake.

It very much looked like instant healing and Tony didn’t trust it one bit.

Neither did Marco. Or Nat, when Tony showed her the footage.

‘There’s something foul in the state of Denmark’ said Tony, pointing at the recording on the screen just when health washed over Loki like a wave, flushing the sickness away.

Nat didn’t say much about it, but she didn’t disagree either, and there was a discontent tilt to her lips.

The footage from the conversation with Thor and Loki he didn’t show her in person. He just discreetly sent the file to her tablet. Even if he could have explained why he found it relevant (but he couldn’t, couldn’t put it in words), he really, really wouldn’t have wanted to.

The fact that Thor didn’t seem to find Loki’s sudden recovery suspicious only made the whole matter sketchier, in Tony’s eyes.

‘Oh, don’t concern yourself’ said Thor with a bright grin, when Tony questioned him about the change – and damn, Loki’s apparent recovery had lifted Sparkle’s mood considerably, if nothing else. ‘Loki was always one to get back to his feet quickly. Do not forget that we are gods, and Loki has magic – his healing powers are not to be underestimated.’

Yeah, well, Loki’s movements were still pretty slow. They were sure of themselves, and the shivering had disappeared just as suddenly as the rest, but they were slow. He did stand up that day, and walked up and down his hospital room, under Marco’s supervision.

And his breath didn’t pick up visibly, and you couldn’t detect a limp.

But he walked slowly.

He was also swaying just a tiny bit, as if he had difficulty holding his balance but was very good at compensating that.

And he sat down in a chair soon again.

And Tony did notice how little Loki used his left arm, burns or no burns.

The gaze Marco shot the god looked disapproving. Maybe also because he had simply removed the splint on his left wrist and had politely refused to let any machine scan or monitor him any longer. His actual cardiac output, as Marco had called it, was an unknown from now on. So was the healing progress of his nerve damage, and most of the rest.

Loki met her disapproval with a cool and disdainful expression on his face, his chin lifted.

_Do not forget that we are gods._

Right.

Well, if Loki was absolutely willing to pretend that everything was fine, Tony would not go and stand in his way. His first priority in this game was still to keep living, after all, and to protect the other humans in the tower. Norse god well-being definitely came after.

Not. His. Fucking. Business.

And the vague associations with Howard were ridiculous, just him being paranoid, as usual (he remembered all too well that business partner at the Stark expo he had spontaneously punched in the jaw because the guy had shoved his teenaged son around a bit too roughly – Tony was prone to projecting, everyone told him so). Loki was not Thor’s kid after all – he didn’t _need_ Thor in the way a kid needs their parent, least of all emotionally. They were brothers, equals, and had both been adults for a long, long time. And had Loki not proven in the past that he _would_ attack Thor both verbally and physically if provoked? A fucking dangerous and vicious god, Tony reminded himself. The architect of the Chitauri invasion, the guy who had stabbed Coulson in the back and who had dropped Thor trapped in a glass cage out of a fucking plane. So… not _exactly_ non-violent himself. Also, not helpless in the least. Able to make his own terrible, terrible decisions.

Not his fucking business. Definitely not.

*

Thor knew as soon as he woke up that it had not been a dream. He propped himself up in the bed he had been occupying in the last days, in the chambers Anthony Stark had so kindly provided for him. With effort, he managed to calm his breath, but his heart would not stop pounding.

And he could not forget the images, of death, destruction, warrior corpses brought back to life and obeying a dark queen with horns on her head who wanted nothing but blood and war. And he had felt her power, had felt how she drew it from the heart of Asgard herself, using it for her purposes.

Their sister. Odin’s prophecy.

Heimdall had called out for him, had shown him what was happening oh so far away. While he had been spending days at his brother’s sickbed, his kingdom and all the nine realms had tumbled into grave danger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter of this batch, I'm now going into a hiatus! I can never say when the next batch is going to come up - and the Prestige will be updated before, that much I can say.
> 
> Fair warning that I'm going to brush over the plot of Ragnarock without going into much detail. If you haven't seen the movie, it might be confusing (but I think most of us have seen the movie).
> 
> In any case, thank you for your very generous response so far! You are wonderful! <3

‘Yes, I know’ Loki said irritably.

Thor leant back, thrown.

‘What do you mean, you know?’

‘You mean you are _not_ feeling the power surge Hela is causing?’ Loki said, and huffed. They were sitting at a small table in Loki’s hospital room. ‘I am aware you are a bit dull but it is not exactly _subtle_ , Thor. And after what Odin told us before dying, it was not difficult to guess what was going on.’

And if Thor did not exactly judge it wise of Loki to mention Odin’s death in front of him, considering who was _responsible_ for that, he swallowed down the harsh words. Because Loki had done _worse_. He had just told him that he had known about the danger Asgard was in and had just _ignored_ it.

Thor opened and closed his fists.

What had he expected? Thor wanted to go forward, yes, but that didn’t mean _Loki_ wouldn’t just stick with the old routine.

‘…Asgard is falling to her forces, right now’ said he carefully calmly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Loki?’

His brother had the audacity to _shrug_ , and Thor fought the urge to shake him.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest instead.

‘Because I knew very well you’d want to go back there at once’ said Loki matter-of-factly. ‘And what are you going to do once there? You heard father – Hela’s power, once she is on Asgard, is limitless. From what I could sense ever since waking up, I am inclined to believe him. And from what you have told me, Heimdall was wise enough to destroy the Bifrost and thus cut her off from the other realms. But Asgard is lost. Accept it.’

‘Never!’ Thor ground out, standing up. ‘And I cannot believe that you would, so easily.’

But maybe he should have, after all this time. Had Loki not shown that he was indifferent to the fate of his home realm, to the fate of any of them? But Thor had been blinded by his guilt, and by his compassion, _again_ , and of course Loki had used that, like he always did-

Loki looked up at him, askance; at the same time, there was a weariness in his eyes Thor didn’t quite know what to do with.

And his brother’s shoulders hunched, as if to make himself smaller. Always ducking, slipping away. You never want to face the consequences of your deeds, do you, brother?

Always the same – you don’t want to change. How can we change if you won’t?

‘If we go there, we will just get ourselves killed’ said Loki tiredly. ‘What’s the use, Thor?’

‘You don’t have to come with me’ Thor said, feeling the anger like a tingle going over his body. ‘You can go where you please now, or hide away some more in the healing halls like you did before, playing at being ill so to escape punishment, or the next fight. But _I_ will not run away while my realm is being destroyed, while my people are being slaughtered.’

Loki flinched under the words, then looked away.

‘Tell me, why did you go to so much trouble to usurp the crown when you do not even want to fight for your own people?’ asked Thor. ‘When you are indifferent to their fall? Did you really think that sitting on the throne and putting up plays glorifying your own treachery were all that makes a king?’

His brother didn’t answer at once.

‘No’ said he then, with the same tired voice. ‘I did not think that.’

And he got to his feet, glowed, and the next moment stood there in all his armour. Well, he hadn’t donned the helmet.

‘Well, then’ said he, and with a small smile. ‘When do we start?’

Thor hadn’t quite expected that response, neither that change of mood – it had worked in the past, reproaching Loki his cowardice so to get him to accompany him on quests. But he had thought that Loki wouldn’t respond anymore to appeals to his honour.

‘So you’re coming with me?’ Thor asked.

‘You will not reach Asgard without me’ Loki said, raising an eyebrow. ‘The Bifrost is destroyed, or have you forgotten that?’

Well… maybe he had, just for a moment. But not having the Bifrost at his disposal did take some getting used to after all.

‘We will have to tread the secret paths. And for that, we will have to go to Norway.’

Thor nodded.

‘The hammer will take us there.’

‘And don’t I remember that way of travelling all too fondly’ Loki said sarcastically, and without further ado, turned and headed towards the door. Thor followed.

They heard someone running after them when they were halfway down the corridor.

‘Mr Odinson’ he heard a woman call – Dr Marco. ‘ _What_ do you think you are doing?’

Loki turned elegantly on the spot with one of his more charming smiles.

‘Why, leaving of course’ said he. ‘After you so kindly nursed me back to health. Truly, I am in your debt, Dr Marco.’

He bowed a bit too deeply before her – but then, knowing protocol like the back of his hand did absolutely not mean that Loki always obeyed it.

‘Back to health-‘ Dr Marco spluttered. ‘That is one way to… I strongly advise against your discharge, Mr Odinson, in fact I-‘

‘In fact I have understood that I had the right to refuse treatment?’ Loki said and cocked his head, narrowing his eyes just a little, but there was already a dangerous glint in them. His way of asserting his authority on the court of Asgard had been less straightforward than Thor’s, true, but no less feared. ‘So that is what I do. I refuse treatment from now on, including your recommendations, and your advice.’

Dr Marco looked a bit flabbergasted at that.

‘Again, I thank you’ Loki said, this time only inclining his head, as was a lot more appropriate considering their difference in station. ‘Farewell, Dr Marco.’

And with that, he turned again, and Thor, after sending Dr Marco a smile, followed, chuckling.

‘These Midgardians do sometimes forget who we are, do they not?’ asked he.

The look Loki shot him was definitely amused.

‘Oh, healers are the same everywhere, aren’t they?’ said he dismissively, not losing the smile. ‘They always think they can order you around.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, considering you have far more experience with them than I do’ Thor said.

Loki’s face tensed just a little at the jest, the smile froze, just for a moment – but it was true, wasn’t it? Loki had had to seek the healer’s care far more often than Thor, and not even always because of battle wounds.

Also, Loki had never been slow to use _Thor’s_ failures against him in flyting, hadn’t he?

But then Loki raised his eyebrows.

‘Because I’ve had to save your sorry arse so many times from your stupidity, you mean?’ asked he, and Thor knew he was on known territory once more.

‘You call it stupidity, I call it bravery’ Thor said.

His brother eyed him side-long.

‘Exactly’ said he.

And that made Thor laugh, and for the first time in a long time, he felt he had a part of his brother back he had sorely been missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fine.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Thor and Loki went to Asgard and killed Hela and saved all the Asgardians and Loki turned into a perfect little brother and never made Thor angry again, so Thor never had to hurt him again, and everything turned out just FINE!
> 
> So, I have a new batch for you! 6 chapter this time (short ones).  
> Fair warning that I will rush through the whole Ragnaröck plot in record time because it isn't very relevant for this story (or at least not Thor's POV) and retelling canon without a good reason bores me. If you haven't seen the movie, you might be a bit lost.  
> In related news, Hela will play an extremely minor role in this fic (warning for all the Hela fans out there, I love her too, but in this one, she will get practically no screen time at all).  
> The story will slow down later on though, as soon as we leave the highway of canon for good and travel the uncompliant and very angsty path of Black Feather Drama.
> 
> It takes me a long time to answer to comments, I know. But I will answer! And they are and probably always will be the perfect comfort food of my soul <3
> 
> I have added the tag 'unreliable narrator', and when I say unreliable narrator, I'm looking at you, Thor!  
> In this fic, he's even a more unreliable narrator than Loki, and that is saying something.
> 
> Oh, and I'm rambling ^^. I'm a rambler.

At first, it all went as planned. Anthony Stark, after some odd looks at both of them, and after asking Loki a few times whether he was really, really sure he had already recovered, accepted Thor’s thanks for the sanctuary and for helping his brother heal, acknowledged their need to leave now, and bid them good-bye. In truth, he looked a little drunk.

And the flight to Norway was exhilarating, just what Thor had needed after days of staying in this strange Midgardian dwelling in the middle of an even stranger city that sometimes made him feel so very suffocated.

Up in the clouds, he felt free, and if Loki was scowling and complaining about the wind during the whole journey, he did not look worse humoured than he usually did, travelling that way. And Thor knew that Loki’s complaints had their cause more in the fact that he felt out of control, being carried in Thor’s arms like a helpless maiden, than in the flying itself. After all, Loki had loved shifting into all kinds of birds or other flying beasts in the past. He had loved soaring into the sky, diving and rising again.

When had Thor last seen him in such a form? It felt like decades ago. He would have to ask him why he didn’t do this anymore.

They landed on a clearing in the middle of a forest, near a stream, and Loki led them up that stream, walking ahead. His pace was surprisingly slow, but after an hour, they came to a pond into which a waterfall was rushing. Loki waded directly into that pond, heading for the waterfall itself.

When Thor didn’t immediately follow, Loki turned around, offered his hand.

‘Well, oaf’ said he, and again, he smiled. ‘If you do not want me to claim all the glory of battle for myself?’

Thor eyed that hand, before taking it.

‘If you betray me again-’ grumbled he.

Something crossed Loki’s face, and his smile stiffened a little. As if Thor’s wariness wasn’t more than justified.

‘Whatever punishment you have planned in that case,’ said the trickster, raising an eyebrow, ‘I pray only you do not begin until we have safely left the secret paths again. You know how this goes, and how unwise it is to distract me while we are journeying.’

Yes, Thor knew. There was a reason so few people used these paths. They were narrow, and slippery, and if you fell there… but Loki had proven that one could even survive that.

He took the hand.

‘Whatever happens’ Loki said, and for all that he still smiled, his eyes were deadly serious. ‘Do not let go.’

*

The water crashing down on their heads as they walked through the waterfall was the last remotely normal sensation Thor felt before he was in the darkness, and then was walking among shadows, colours and light. He thought he could discern the branch on which they were treading, one small branch of the gigantic Yggdrasil, but he was not sure. Were those leaves, around him? But they flickered and moved, some of them quick like bats hunting in the dusk.

Loki was still walking in front of him and even more slowly than before, he noticed, much more slowly than Thor was used to, and he wanted to comment on it, only to remember how ill-advised it was to speak where they were now.

Where the material world meant so little and magic meant so much and every word spoken might be made into unfortunate reality. The worst kind of accidental spells.

For a while they went on.

The first thing Thor noticed was that Loki was breathing more audibly. As if he were running, even though they were moving at the pace of snails.

Again, Thor opened his mouth, closed it again.

No, not a good idea to speak.

But then Loki stopped walking. He was panting as if he didn’t get enough air. His body shivered a little, and then he swayed.

Thor caught him at the shoulder, and his brother let out a small, surprised sound.

What’s going on, Thor wanted to ask. What is-

That was when Loki’s knees gave in, and when he fell, he pulled Thor with him.

Thor kept his promise – he didn’t let go. Loki pulled him off the path into the terrible space between Yggdrasil’s branches, but Thor didn’t let go.

No, he wrapped his arms around his brother, and pressed his eyes shut, knowing that whatever he might see here, it might cost him his sanity.

*

The ground crushed hard into them and Thor coughed, gasped from the pain.

It took him several moments until he blinked open his eyes, but everything was blurry. His arms were still wrapped around another body. Loki.

He disentangled himself from his brother as much as possible, half lying on and half lying underneath him, and tried to push himself into a sitting position, but the ground underneath him moved. Unsteady. Full of sharp angles.

He blinked. Everything so bright.

Noises of engines, screeches of some sort of creatures. Slowly, the world came into focus.

He was lying on a giant heap of _trash_ , he realised as his arm sunk in once again, coming back covered in reeking muck. And his heap of trash was surrounded by _more_ heaps of trash, strange portholes in the sky dumping ever more garbage all around them, as if this was just an exceedingly crass joke on his whole life. His brother next to him, lying on his side, limp.

Thor turned Loki on his back, and he looked unconscious, but when Thor, half crouching over the other, shook him, he coughed, then opened his eyes, looked first up at Thor, blinking at him confusedly, then looked around, straining his head back and sideways to see better. He still looked a little dazed.

And he frowned.

‘This is not Asgard’ Loki stated the obvious after a while.

‘You _think_?’ Thor growled and tightened his hold on Loki’s shoulders. ‘What have you done, Loki? Where have you led us _now_?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They might have gotten a bit off course there...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love y'all! Thank your for the comments! <3 <3

At the end of that day, Thor was very much done with everything. Including his brother. Maybe especially with his bloody useless double-crossing traitor of a brother who had abandoned him at the first occasion, just deciding to turn invisible when those marauders had attacked them, because _of course_ he wouldn’t help him, _of course_ he couldn’t just have Thor’s back _one single time_.

‘Fighter or food?’

Thor had shown those bandits what of the two he was alright.

But right, then some drunken woman had put a disc on Thor’s neck that had shocked him into unconsciousness and he still wasn’t able to get off that disc, and wasn’t he supposed to be immune to lightning anyway? But whatever this was, it was not lightning, and it was effective. And then they had cut off his hair and had found his hammer very funny, and had dragged him to that wanna-be king who just melted anyone he didn’t like, and who had just taken his hammer away from him _like that_ , as if she was a _toy_ , as if that clown was _worthy_ , and Thor couldn’t call for her anymore because some moron called the _Grandmaster_ who reigned on a planet made of trash called Sakaar apparently had the power not only to wield Mjolnir but also to cut Thor off from her.

And now he was sitting in a holding cell on that trash planet without Mjolnir, hearing her call for him but not being able to _respond_ , while Asgard was being slaughtered and Loki… was probably on a different realm altogether already, or conspiring with that trash planet king. Maybe putting on another sappy play about his fake death.

Thor laid his face into his hands.

He just hoped they would keep their promise and give him something to kill soon.

*

They did.

Thor slaughtered his way through half a dozen creatures of various height and form, maybe more, for several days, until they paired him with the Hulk, who had, for some reason, ended up on Sakaar too.

‘A friend from work’ he told the crowd, overjoyed.

As it turned out, it was not quite that simple.

Loki on the other hand he had already spotted several times sitting next to the Grandmaster himself in the great loge from which one could see the fights in the arena best. He had obviously already made his bed.

So at least in one respect, things went more or less as expected.

*

Thor learned that the drunkard who had put the disc on him was actually a Valkyrie. Which was _awesome_ , only she was a Valyrie who cared about as much about Asgard’s fate as Loki did, which was not much of a competition really.

He also befriended a few of the other fighters and was mildly relieved that these were not the ones he would have to slay in the near future. It was of course honourable to die in such a fight, especially to be defeated by Thor son of Odin, rightful king of Asgard, but still.

Apparently, the Grandmaster liked to pair him with more dangerous creatures in any case.

And yes, so maybe he happened to face a few rather worthy opponents during the following days. Maybe during one particular fight against a pair of gigantic, vicious hounds with far too many heads, Thor had not been quite that sure he would live to see the end of the day. And maybe even the night after, lying in his quarters and trying to ignore his bruises and wounds, he still didn’t know whether he would have won if the Grandmaster hadn’t decided to end the fight early on a whim, shocking the hounds into unconsciousness even as they had already pinned Thor underneath their paws.

He tried not to think about that too much. Of how close he had been to defeat (oblivion). Of how the very existence of the rightful king of Asgard had depended on the Grandmaster’s _mercy_ (mood).

Instead, he nursed his rage.

And the days kept passing, the fights continued, the Grandmaster kept calling Thor’s home Assberg and kept making dick jokes about his hammer, and when Heimdall reached for Thor in his sleep, asking him to urgently come home, Thor was almost glad he couldn’t answer. Because what should he have said?

Yeah, well, I tried to, but then my brother, who you told me countless times was not to be relied upon and who has betrayed me about half a dozen times already, screwed up again, then betrayed me again, and now I’m fighting for my life in trash land while Mjolnir is being fondled by a degenerate whose whims I’m depending on and who said unreliable brother is cosying up to?

Maybe not.

*

Loki showed up in the fighting quarters at some point. Not in person of course, as Thor made sure by throwing some junk at his brother that went right through the illusion.

‘Are you content, warming the Grandmaster’s bed, being turned into his little _pet_?’ asked Thor.

He did get a reaction out of that – Loki predictably stiffened, his eyes turned cold, and for a moment, Thor thought he might lash out. Only he was not really here to lash out, was he? Thor threw another piece of junk through his brother’s head to make that point.

‘Are you quite done?’ asked Loki, not specifying whether he was talking about the junk throwing or the crass innuendo.

Thor shrugged, and took up the next piece of junk, ready to throw that too.

He was aware he had crossed a bit of a line there – this kind of jest would not be well-received by most Aesir and even less well by the second prince who had had to fight such allegations for most of his adult life. They were absurd of course, and that was why Thor had never understood why Loki had taken them quite so personally. But because Loki was Loki and couldn’t take as much insult as he gave, he did.

‘What I _have_ been doing’ Loki ground out now, ‘is gathering information while you’ve been enjoying yourself down here.’

‘ _Enjoying_ myself?’ Thor said and the piece of metal crumbled in his hand.

‘Oh, don’t pretend I haven’t seen how much you needed to blow off some steam’ Loki said, then huffed. ‘In any case, I have a plan. And I need your assistance.’

Of course Loki did.

*

Thor wasn’t sure whether it helped that it was one of Loki’s better plans. On the one hand, sure, it was certainly reassuring that this time for once, his brother had seemed to have thought the matter through. No matter how fervently Loki claimed the opposite, Thor had a few scars to show for the fact that Loki did _not_ always do that.

On the other hand, Loki thinking a plan through could also simply mean that he was up to something again.

In the end however, it wasn’t like Thor had a better idea, or much occasion to do anything in the fighting quarters he was stuck in. And at least, Loki had (somehow?) convinced the Valkyrie to come with. Probably, he had bribed her with booze. Or with Hela’s death, that was possible too. Loki had even planned on taking the Hulk with them, even though he didn’t look very enthusiastic about the idea.

The fighters Thor had befriended were more quickly convinced to start a rebellion than he would have thought – he had to admit that even he found them a bit… well, gullible. For once, he could understand the slight feeling of disappointment and suspicion Loki had mentioned a few times in the past when tricking someone had been just a tiny bit too easy.

And Thor felt guilty, doing so. A little.

But then again, Sakaar needed a rebellion in any case, didn’t it? This whole planet was disgusting, and the Grandmaster certainly didn’t help.

*

The plan worked, for the most part.

The rebellion was a good distraction, and Thor found some satisfaction in getting a good punch in as a thank you for Loki’s betrayal when they finally met in person again. Loki didn’t even comment on that, after having picked himself back up from the floor.

‘Let’s move’ he simply said, wiping the blood away, and move they did.

They freed the Hulk, there was a bit of a tense moment when the Hulk decided that smashing puny god into the wall and then strangling him was an appropriate reaction to meeting him again, but Valkyrie managed to talk the Berserker down before Loki could run out of air.

Loki and Valkyrie led them to a big ship called the Statesman, the Hulk having transformed back into Banner. It was embarrassingly late when Thor realised that one part of the plan hadn’t been put into action yet.

‘Wait’, said he when the ramp of the Statesman opened. ‘We still have to get Mjolnir.’

And the way Loki turned back to him and eyed him, already tense and alert, told him at once that his suspicions had been well-founded.

‘Loki?’ asked he in a low voice that nevertheless never failed to sound threatening.

‘The Grandmaster is too powerful’ Loki said, looking at him closely, his whole body so obviously only waiting for an attack to evade. ‘Taking the hammer away from him was never an option. I’m sorry, Thor.’

‘You’re not _sorry_ , Lie-Smith. And I will not leave without her’ Thor growled.

For another moment, Loki just studied him, then he sighed.

‘No, I thought not’ said he.

Before Thor could even register the controller in Loki’s hand, he had already triggered the obedience disc.

Twitching in the ground, waves of pain shaking his body, Thor saw Loki look down at him coolly.

‘It’s truly nothing personal this time, Thor’ Loki said shortly before the world faded away. ‘Even I can admit that Mjolnir would have been useful. But we also _really_ need to leave.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you are worried for Loki now that Thor has lost his hammer - I sure don't know why. Thor is the victim here after all, isn't he?
> 
> Love to you all! <3

Thor came to, lying on a cold metal grid. His whole body was aching and it took him a while to get on his feet. The anger helped though.

Looking around, he quickly realised he was in the cargo area of a ship of some sort. Of the Statesman, with all probability. There was a slight vibration to the ground, so they were probably already moving.

He closed his eyes, and yes, he still heard her, but Mjolnir’s call was already so quiet, they were travelling away from her, quickly, and he tried to call back, he _tried_ , but like in the fighting quarters it was as if his voice was silenced as soon as it rang out.

And this was _not_ unworthiness, he knew what _that_ had felt like and this was not it, this was… this was the Grandmaster just turning off his voice _like that_ , and that shouldn’t be possible, and now they were leaving her in that degenerate’s hands, they couldn’t, they couldn’t-

He stumbled across the hall and through some corridors, shouting at the top of his lungs that they had to turn back, they HAD TO, they couldn’t just leave her there, they couldn’t just _abandon_ her, and he felt it rise, the realisation of the loss, a feeling as familiar as it was bitter, because he had already lost so _much_. He felt sparks going over his body even though Mjolnir was so far, but the sparks were weak, barely enough to tickle, the Grandmaster had found them _cute_ , and he hated, hated-

He couldn’t be apart from her. Not like that, not for good.

Please.

Please, we can’t leave her behind.

She hasn’t deserved that.

 _Please_.

Down more and more corridors, shouting in rage so to drown out the loss, this feeling as if a limb had been ripped off his body, and Mjolnir couldn’t be just _gone_! But he felt it, he felt her call fade and disintegrate into nothing like Odin had disintegrated into light and nothing, all crumbling away before his very eyes.

In the end, all and everything always turned to _nothing_.

But then he heard voices talking. And then a door slid open, Valkyrie stepped out, not completely steady on her feet. ‘Would you be so kind as to stop shouting, your Majesty? You’re making my head hurt.’

But Thor barely heard her, because he saw Loki in that room behind Valkyrie, and he remembered Loki looking down at him, _it’s truly nothing personal this time_ , Loki just _watching_ as Odin crumbled away, as if he were just a bystander, surprised and uninvolved, if it had not been _him_ who had cursed their father, who had killed him in the end, Loki on the surveillance feed of Asgard’s dungeons as he had said to the Kursed all those years ago, _you might want to take the stairs to the left_.

And of course Loki had wallowed in his self-pity later, had cried woe and regret and had torn his cell apart, he was always good at _that_ , but in that moment, when it had counted, when the Norns’ had held their mother’s life string in their hands, wondering when to cut it, he had said to the Kursed, _you might want to take the stairs to the left_.

He brushed past Valkyrie, was at Loki with two strides, ignored that his brother had raised his hands, that he had walked back as far as the bridge allowed, no, I will _not_ accept that offer of peace when you have cost me _so much_ , first Jane and the Bifrost, then Frigga, then Odin, then Mjolnir, grabbed him by the shoulder.

You are the eternal _rust_ , brother.

You corrode everything you touch, and it comes to nothing in my hands.

He felt Loki flinch even before Thor’s fist connected with his jaw, threw his brother’s head to the side abruptly, something flew out of Loki’s mouth, his head lolled a little. By the moment Loki’s face turned back to Thor, Thor had drawn back his arm and punched him again, then again, then rammed his knee into Loki’s stomach once, twice, three times, punched him in the side, threw him across the room where he hit the floor with a cough. And he strode over to the excuse for a man who was curling up, turned him on his back, ‘Face me!’ he shouted, because Loki turned his face away, eyes pressed tightly shut, ‘Face me, you vile coward, you-‘, his fingers found Loki’s throat, wrapped around it, squeezed, ‘You should _not_ have taken Mjolnir from me, _viper_! You-‘

That was about the moment someone triggered the obedience disc again.

There was a blank after that.

When Thor got aware of his surroundings again, he was lying on the ground. Valkyrie was looking down at him, the controller casually in her hand.

‘Uh-uh’ said she, wiggling with the controller, when Thor made a gesture to straighten up. ‘You’ll stay on the ground for now, your Majesty. It’s much safer for you there.’

‘Get that disc _off_ me’ Thor growled.

‘Not until you got that temper of yours under control’ Valkyrie said. ‘Or have you forgotten that we might kind of need Lackey in the fight against Hela later?’

‘Oh, Thor would never admit that he ever needed me in any battle’ a dry, slightly raspy voice said.

Loki.

Thor turned his head, suddenly worried, but his brother was already on his feet, brushing dust off his armour. He moved a little gingerly, but apart from a split lip, he looked fine. Bruce was hovering close to him, though Loki brushed the mortal’s hands away as dismissively as the dust.

‘Telling by his tales, he achieved all his victories with his brute strength alone’

‘Do you really want to start this now?’ Thor said testily. ‘Just because in contrast to you, I use honourable methods-‘

Loki laughed, his teeth were a bit bloody.

‘Ah – I forgot’ said he. ‘Of course, the matter is settled then. Please, excuse me.’

And with a small bow, he left the bridge.

‘Fuck, Thor’ Bruce said, shaking his head at him. ‘I know Loki can be an asshole, but Val is right – we can’t afford to fight among ourselves.’

As if _he_ could talk – the Hulk had smashed Loki into the wall of the Grandmaster’s palace before any of them had gotten even a word out.

‘Also, he’s our only mage’ Valkyrie said. ‘So don’t do Hela’s job for her just because he stole your pillow when you were five or something.’

‘He didn’t let me retrieve _Mjolnir_!’ Thor protested.

‘Do I look like I care about your bullshit hammer?’ Valkyrie asked. ‘All I want is Hela’s head on a pike and then all the booze on this _fucking_ ship. So either you start behaving and I’ll remove that little disc on your neck-‘

She smiled crookedly.

‘Or… you’re in for another ride.’

*

Loki soon fell back in the fight on Asgard, but Thor had neither the time nor the mind to think about that too much. Probably, his brother was just trying to stay out of the worst, save himself, let others risk their skin, as always. He did his part, at least, that much Thor could see. Slaughtered his fair share of undead warriors with his knifes, his tricks. And when the fight turned against them, when it became clear that they could not win, Loki still hadn’t run. Was still there, even though he had been right, and there was no point to any of this. Hela would kill them all.

Maybe Mjolnir would have made a difference.

But maybe she wouldn’t have. So close to her, even Thor could feel Hela’s power and in truth, he had known that they had no chance of victory as soon as he had challenged her in person.

Still, it was too late to retreat now.

His last resort was a desperate one in the end, a terrible one, but when Thor told Loki about Sutur’s crown in the vault, about the Eternal Flame, his brother hesitated only for an instant, then simply nodded and disappeared into the shadows.

They had always understood each other with few words, in battle - as if the battle ground was the only place where they could be at peace with each other, where they could cooperate.

*

In the end, Asgard was its own funeral pyre.

Loki had really done it – had taken Sutur’s crown and put it into the Eternal Flame, and Sutur had risen and his flames had consumed _everything_. Including their sister.

Thor looked out the cockpit of the Statesman, watching his home crumble and fall apart, eaten away by the fire.

It was over. They had done it. Asgard was gone.

You are the eternal rust, brother.

You corrode everything you touch, and it comes to nothing in my hands.

Even Asgard.

Even Hela.

It had been necessary. He knew it had been necessary. Even with this new power that had woken in him and that he had barely begun to understand yet, he would never have been able to defeat her.

There had not been many people left to save. They had ushered whoever they could on the Statesman before they had taken off, and Heimdall had said he would do a head count in the coming days, but Thor could already tell that… there were not many left.

Almost none of the warriors had survived, Heimdall had told him, and barely anybody who had been in the palace back when Hela had first arrived. Mostly craftsmen, peasants and merchants had made it out. Children.

Asgard was not a place but a people, yes.

And what a weakened people she was now.

Thor wondered silently where Loki had run off to. Of course he had taken the occasion to steal away.

Had he gone back to Sakaar so to continue his power game with the Grandmaster there? To Alfheim or Vanaheim maybe? Whereto would he bring his schemes next, his chaos, his eventual screw-ups and willing or unwilling destruction?

Who knew?

*

When Thor retired to his appointed chambers that night, he was more than tired. So much they had had to organise in only a few hours – who would sleep where, who would inventory food, materials, clothing, blankets, how to organise a first meal, who to put in charge of maintaining order…

He poured himself some of the strong Sakaaran liquor he had found on the ship, and drank.

‘I would be careful with that stuff’ he heard. ‘Sakaaran spirits can have odd side-effects, in my experience.’

Thor turned around, but the relief at hearing the voice, his relief at the confirmation that Loki had made it out at least, didn’t hold.

Because Loki was standing there, his armour spotless, his hands behind his back, not a scratch on him, and Thor knew what that probably meant.

He took one of those weird small objects that were cluttering his night table and threw it at his brother, expecting it to pass through him.

Loki caught it, and turned it in his hand.

‘You’re… gifting me with sex toys’ said he, raising his eyebrows a little. ‘A strange way to reward me for burning down Asgard like Odin always feared I would.’

At first, Thor let out just a dry ‘hah’.

The rest of the chuckle came slowly.

Because Loki was there. He was really _there_.

When Thor wrapped his brother in his arms tightly, Loki flinched at first, but then embraced him too. And he smelled so familiar, and though Thor had lost so many things that day, including one eye, there was something he had _not_ lost after all.

Not all was coming to nothing, was it? Not all was crumbling away.

He said, ‘And just as father always feared, I helped you along.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Everything is turning out just fine!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have both good and bad news for you. 
> 
> The bad news is that I’ve read through the first draft of the upcoming chapters (the ones after the current batch) and I have realised that my beta, the wonderful, cunning and ingenious Entropy_by_Ophelia, is indeed right (they often are) and the plot and character development just... don’t work out. The dynamic is too hurried, things happen at the wrong time, characters need more space and more time to develop relationships.  
> So I think I might have pinned down the problem, more or less, and I have a vague idea of how to solve it, but solving it means rewriting a good part of what I’ve already written (which I will do, no worries there), which will take me some time. And that means that you should definitely prepare for a longer hiatus after this batch, even more so since if in doubt, I will always favour my main fic, the Prestige (or my original work if inspiration strikes me there).
> 
> The good news is that I have also decided, for dramatic and my own evil purposes, to end this batch a little later. So the batch is going to end not with chapter 12 but with chapter 13, and I will leave you with some juicy emotional impact to stew over. Because that's just the kind of person I am.
> 
> Also, Thor and his constant reframing of all matters Loki might be the OTP of this fic, so I have tagged it as a slash.

For about four days, they thought they had a future.

Then the pulsar drive broke, the Statesman switched to emergency flight mode, which was so slow they could practically have been standing still. From then on, it took them about a day to realise that they didn’t have the means on the Statesman to repair the ship, with or without magic. And from then on, it took them a few more hours to understand how serious their situation actually was.

‘Yup, we are all going to die here’ Val said with her usual cheer, and took another swig from her bottle. She had kept her promise and had gone straight back to drowning herself in liquor after the battle.

Heimdall shot her a sharp look.

But he didn’t disagree.

And Thor, newly-crowned king, sitting at the head of a rather improvised council, would really have liked to be able to disagree.

But the numbers spoke such a clear message, even he couldn’t misunderstand.

They had food for about four more weeks on the Statesman, if they rationed it very cautiously.

The water however would run out five days earlier.

And the life support system had never been designed to care for several hundred living beings, especially not without the pulsar drive powering it, and so it was struggling to maintain a breathable atmosphere.

Which translated to head-aches, people passing out, lethargy, even more Asgardians needing the attention of the very few healers who were among the survivors.

The climate control was equally failing since it too had been mainly powered by the pulsar – which meant that the temperature was slowly, but steadily falling, a fact that benefitted no one, except Loki maybe.

And according to the maps, the next even remotely inhabitable planet was, at their current almost inexistent speed, nine months away.

So yes – they _had_ survived Hela and Asgard’s fall only to starve or die from thirst or suffocate or freeze to death in space instead.

Thor glanced at Loki whose eyes were on the table.

They often were.

Loki, though always invited, had seldom spoken at the council until now. Sometimes, Thor wondered whether he even listened. After that first evening, his brother had gone back to avoiding him, and from then on had been spending a lot of time in his appointed chambers that he had managed to turn into a cluttered mess within a mere few hours. He was sleeping a lot, from what Thor could tell, and did little else. And while that would have barely annoyed Thor usually, there was more than enough work even if they all contributed their fair share. They really could have used the extra pair of hands, especially when that pair of hands belonged to someone as smart and competent as his brother.

Maybe Loki was afraid of the other Asgardians, of the hate and reproaches he, the false king, the traitor and usurper, might be met with.

Thor hadn’t confronted him about it. He didn’t think he had energy enough for that argument. And he could see the faint lines of pain on Loki’s face that told of a headache – maybe he too was suffering from the bad air, if not from the coldness.

… or maybe Thor left his brother alone because he had seen something small and white on the ground of the bridge the other day, had bent down and picked it up, and it had been a tooth.

Loki’s tooth.

That he had probably lost when Thor had punched him.

And had never mentioned it.

Thor had felt the familiar burn of guilt in his gut, and all eagerness to talk to Loki had disappeared immediately.

‘Well’ Thor said to the room at large. ‘Any ideas?’

The room at large consisted of three people really. The Hulk was not a good addition to any council, and no members of the old one had survived.

There were just Thor, Val, Heimdall and Loki.

Thor sighed.

‘Can we ration the food some more? How long will we survive without it?’

‘Starvation will not be our fate’ Heimdall said sensibly. ‘Suffocation will. The life support system will, without the pulsar drive, not be able to run at its current capacity for several months, insufficient as it already is. We are overburdening it, and it will break down eventually. After that, it will take no more than a day until even the strongest of us will have succumbed.’

‘So what – you suggest we chuck the old and weak into space so the rest of us can make it slightly longer?’ Thor asked sarcastically, then put his face into his hands.

His eye socket was hurting. But what was he going to do about that? The healers already had their hands full with worse.

‘There might be another way.’

The voice was low.

Thor looked up – but Loki was still looking at the table as if he had said nothing at all.

‘Speak, Loki’ Thor said. ‘Whatever tricks you can provide, if they save us, you can be sure that they will be well-received.’

‘Can I?’ Loki said more to himself than to them.

He hesitated for another moment, then he stretched out his right hand, palm up.

He exhaled, and slowly a blue cube materialised, floating above his palm.

Loki looked at it almost shyly, a frown on his face.

And Thor knew exactly what that was.

‘The Tesseract’ said he.

Loki nodded.

‘The _Tesseract,_ ’ Thor repeated, and then said, his voice lower, ‘Why do you have it, Loki? And why have you kept it from us until now?’

‘It was in father’s vault’ Loki said, still staring at the blue cube, then abruptly making it disappear.

‘Yes, but why did you _take_ it, Loki?’ Thor hissed. ‘What were you planning?’

Loki looked at him blankly for a moment, then laughed a little.

‘Not much, truly’ said he. ‘I have few plans these days.’

He fled Thor’s eyes again.

‘I couldn’t well leave it there, Thor. It’s an infinity stone – it would have survived Sutur’s fire. And then, with the vault destroyed and Asgard’s magic gone, it would have been unprotected, right there, ready for the Mad Titan’s taking.’

There was a long silence after that.

‘What?’ Thor asked then. ‘What I mean to say is… _what_?’

‘… I thought we had gotten rid of that asshole’ Valkyrie said, and for the first time since Thor had met her, she looked a bit taken aback.

And disgruntled, though that was more familiar.

‘Loki… who by the Norns is the Mad Titan?’ Thor asked, feeling his patience wear thin.

‘The one who sent me to Midgard’ Loki said to the table, raising his eyebrows just a little. ‘The one who was controlling the would-be king – you wanted to know, didn’t you?’

Loki’s eyes went to Thor’s.

‘The Mad Titan did’ Loki said. ‘I made a deal with him – the Tesseract for Midgard’s throne. He gave me his army and the mind stone, and I offered him my skill at creating portals and theft. I evidently failed to deliver.’

He shrugged.

‘In my defence, his army was a huge disappointment too.’

Another long moment of silence.

‘ _Loki_ ’ Thor said then threateningly.

‘In any case, then I learned of his true plans, and my failure seemed quite fortunate in retrospect’ said Loki.

‘So we _are_ talking about Thanos’ Heimdall said who had been observing Loki very closely.

Loki flinched violently at that, turned away from the watchman.

‘I would be _very_ grateful if you refrained from using his name’ said he tensely.

That… was strange. That… was new.

‘Why?’ Thor asked.

Loki’s shoulders went up.

‘Or do as you like’ said he then. ‘Why should my wishes matter? In any case, yes, the Mad Titan still follows the same goal.’

‘Which is?’

‘Oh, just the small matter of ending all life in the universe’ Val said with a shrug, but this time, even she sounded exasperated. ‘Nothing much more than that.’

Thor may have accumulated some sparks after that. Loki shrank in his seat in any case.

‘He attempted this eons ago, long before even I was born’ Heimdall said, his eyes still on Loki. ‘And he was only barely defeated – the alliance of the realms managed if not to kill then to cage him, using the void itself to separate him from our reality. Many thought he had died there since, alone and hopeless. Others say he has just been biding his time.’

‘So this is the person you allied yourself with, _brother_ ’ Thor ground out. ‘Some lunatic who wants to eradicate all _life_? Seriously? Even for you, that’s low.’

Loki flinched again.

‘Well, obviously I’ve changed my mind since then’ he said, his voice tense. ‘Which is why I couldn’t just leave the Tesseract out there, floating in space. I’m aware that here, it is not much more protected – we have to bring it somewhere else. And it was all for the better, wasn’t it? We need a way to cross great distances quickly – thanks to me, we have a stone that can create portals. Problem solved.’

Heimdall’s eyebrows rose.

‘You can wield it this way?’ asked he, sceptically. ‘An infinity stone is difficult to exploit.’

‘And yet I’ve done it before’ Loki said, and just for a moment, there was a glint in his eyes. ‘The mind stone too. Yes, watchman, I _can_.’

Heimdall didn’t look convinced.

‘A portal big enough to fit the Statesman?’ asked he.

And there Loki’s eyes fled the other’s.

Great. So he couldn’t.

Thor groaned and rubbed his face.

‘Probably’ Loki said then.

‘Probably?’ Val repeated, one eyebrow raised.

‘Well, I could at least try’ Loki said and balled his fists. ‘What do we have to lose anyway?’

‘Everything that we have left’ Heimdall said soberly. ‘So tell me about the risk involved.’

‘The _risk_? That I fail and you remain stuck here, suffocating in this metal box and wondering who to chuck out the air locks next!’ Loki shouted, throwing up his arms, and there was something wild to him suddenly. ‘Or are those stakes not high enough for you, _Heimdall_?’

But Heimdall didn’t respond, just crossed his arms in front of his chest.

And Loki crumbled, folded in on himself.

‘We will have only one try’ said he, once more to the table. ‘But to have one chance and fail it instead of having none at all – I think that even Thor will agree on what is more acceptable.’

‘I do’ Thor said after a pause.

‘The question remains where the space gem should take us’ Heimdall said.

‘Midgard’ Thor said easily.

‘Midgard?’ Loki asked and scoffed. ‘Still the same destination? I thought you’d have a better idea by now.’

‘I am well liked there’ Thor said. ‘And there are the Avengers there and SHIELD – they could help us guard the stone.’

‘Yeah… though they aren’t too hot on your brother, are they?’ asked Val. ‘I mean, he did try to invade their realm and everything.’

‘And yet the last time we were there, they saved his life’ Thor said.

A pause.

Then, ‘Let’s go there’ Loki said.

‘… really?’

Thor wondered what was behind this sudden change of mind. His brother was not a person to face possible punishment, however justified, willingly.

But Loki nodded.

‘Yes’ he said. ‘The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it is one of your very rare good ideas, brother. The Tesseract has already opened a portal to Midgard before, twice in fact. It knows perfectly well what to do and that will make my work considerably simpler.’

‘Well, then’ Thor said, wondering how they had ended up having to rely on the least reliable person on this ship once again. ‘I suppose to Midgard it is.’

*

Thor would probably have been happier at the prospect of seeing his shield-brothers again and not being stuck in a freezing ship with too little oxygen anymore, waiting for his (very) slow death, if he had just felt a little more confident about this whole trusting Loki with their survival matter.

Nothing Loki demanded for the plan was unreasonable exactly. That he needed some days to prepare the spell was inconvenient but not uncommon with powerful magic like that. That he declared that neither Thor nor Heimdall should be close to him at the moment of the spell itself was a bit fishy but Loki argued well – Thor and Heimdall both had too much magic, he said, that would interfere with his own, with the gem’s.

‘This will be difficult enough as it is without your lightning screwing it up’ had he said.

So they had agreed that while Heimdall and Thor would remain on the bridge, Valkyrie and Loki would install themselves in one of the machine rooms on a lower deck where the flight and the energy readings could be monitored.

At least, Thor thought, Val was more than capable of handling herself and would not hesitate to clock Loki over the head as hard as necessary if the situation required it.

But as it was, even though everything about the plan had been discussed thoroughly and agreed upon, and he should maybe have been hopeful for once, worry was only gnawing at Thor even more and he caught himself following Loki, observing him, searching him for signs of betrayal. Or for… something.

And if Loki didn’t act suspiciously as such, he didn’t exactly behave according to the rules either. Which was so typical that it should have reassured Thor really.

Apart from cluttering his rooms with belongings he had apparently saved from his old chambers on Asgard during the battle and had stored in a pocket dimension until now, as well as objects he seemed to have found and pocketed on the Statesman, Thor found out that Loki did indeed sleep long into the day. That he had rewired the ship’s electronics so that his room was provided with more oxygen than the rest. That he used his princely status to get more food, more water.

When Thor cornered Loki in a corridor the evening before the spell and reproached him all this, the trickster only laughed.

‘I recommend you for having found me out, and probably without Heimdall’s help too’ said he. ‘But in any case, tomorrow I will open the portal, so what does it matter?’

‘What it _matters_?’ Thor asked, not appreciating at all the casual reference to Heimdall having lost most of his powers. Asgard could certainly have used the watchman’s sight. ‘Does it not matter then that there are children not even a century old who were crying in the mess room today because they stayed hungry? Does it not matter then that in the last five hours, two of our oldest Asgardians fell unconscious because the air is so bad on this wretched boat?’

‘Will any of them open a portal to Midgard tomorrow, saving every last Asgardian left on this ship?’ asked Loki, cocking his head, the smile on his lips oh so very self-satisfied. ‘You are relying on _me_ now, my king, _all_ of you do – on Loki, Asgard’s _saviour_. Considering that, a little oxygen and food in exchange seems suddenly very reasonable, does it not?’

Thor grabbed him by the collar at that and shoved him against the next wall, the back of Loki’s head impacting hard on the metal. Pain crossed Loki’s face, but the smile remained, and Thor shook him, wanted to shake that smile off. Or wanted to shake him even more, until _all_ pretence fell off, and he finally saw something _real_. Something he could understand, something that was not just smoke and mirrors. The back of Loki’s head hit the wall another time, the trickster flinched.

‘My, my’ said he then, grinning, somehow managing to look down at Thor even though he was the shorter man. ‘Who is being selfish now?’

‘What are you planning?’ Thor growled, searching his brother’s eyes, gripping his left arm at the same time because he didn’t trust the trickster not to go for one of his knifes. What are you hiding this time? ‘You are not just doing this out of the kindness of your heart – so what is in there for you?’

‘For me, huh?’ Loki said, cocking his head again. ‘Apart from the privilege of _breathing_ , you mean? Where is the fun in telling you when I can let you stew in your wild imaginings of my possible crimes instead?’

Thor tightened his grip on the arm, shoved Loki more firmly against the wall, pressing down on the spot just above Loki’s collarbones, though not enough to cut off his air. Just a warning, and an old and familiar one at that. Loki’s eyes still widened, he gasped, the mask fracturing.

He squirmed a bit in Thor’s grip, trying to escape, his breath loud and laboured, but between the two of them, they knew exactly who the stronger one was.

‘By Mimir, can you loosen _up_ a little?’ Loki said finally, his voice sounding slightly panicked despite the smile that was still lingering. ‘I’m just teasing you, brother, nothing more – have you no humour left in that thick head of yours?’

Thor just narrowed his eyes, allowing the weakest of sparks travel over his body and Loki’s, and Loki shivered, his shaky smile vanished.

Yes, _exactly_ – I am done playing your games.

His gaze fled Thor’s, travelled hurriedly along the corridor, probably looking for an escape and finding none. Thor noticed with some surprise that his brother’s eyes grew wet. Why would-

But before he could further think on that, Loki abruptly and without warning calmed down.

His face relaxed, the panic left it and left behind… Thor wasn’t sure what exactly.

He looked back up at Thor. His eyes still shining, but much more serene.

‘Thor’ Loki said, and also his voice calm. Serious. ‘My plan is to bring every Asgardian on this ship safely to Midgard. That I swear on the Norns. Asgard has lost _enough_ , I think.’

A pause.

‘And I will not keep you from taking the Tesseract from me afterwards either’ added he then. ‘Also that I swear.’

He looked down again.

‘Are you satisfied?’

Thor held him pinned to the wall for a few more seconds, then let him go.

‘For now’ said he.

Loki breathed out after steadying himself on his feet, massaged his arm where Thor had gripped him, looking past Thor at the ground.

But he had brought this on himself – why did Thor always have to _wrestle_ him into the truth? Or into something resembling the truth at the very least.

And Loki’s mood swings were always so sudden, never trustworthy.

It might have all been an act, for all that Thor knew, Loki’s fear, his pain, the tears, even the calm honesty now. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time.

And as if on cue, Loki straightened himself up, slipping behind his regal and condescending mask once more, all traces of the emotions he had just shown gone. He pulled at his clothing until all was straightened out again, ‘If you have no further need of me’, and took his leave with a short nod but without another word.

He was probably still up to something, Thor thought when he was alone in that corridor. He leant against the wall, then sank to the ground. That damned thin air drained even his strength away, and definitely his patience.

There was no sure way of telling honesty from falsehoods with the Silvertongue. There never had been. Not when Loki was laughing, not when he was crying, not when he was screaming or shivering. It could all be real or just another illusion.

Who knew?

But then again, Loki had given him much, with his oaths. Much more than Thor would have expected. Asking for more would have just invited trouble.

Thor knew his brother somewhat – he had survived more than a millennium at his side after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love your summaries of what's been happening so far XD.

The day of the spell was hectic, and full of preparations, and Thor barely saw a glimpse of his brother. The few times he did run across Loki though, he looked tense as a spring.

Absurdly, that relieved Thor more than anything else as he realised that this was what he had been missing – Loki was always bad-humoured and skittish before casting a difficult working. The calm of the last days, interrupted only by their short altercation, must have been just another façade then. And if Thor wished that Loki would trust him with his nerves, at least the pattern was familiar, predictable.

‘Is everything ready?’ he heard Val say over the comms from the room two decks beneath them. ‘We are – Lackey has cast his circle and everything.’

‘It’s _Loki_ ’ he heard his brother say in the background.

‘Yes, we’re ready’ Thor said. ‘Heimdall is going to steer the ship, and everyone knows that the ride might get bumpy.’

‘Actually, if everything goes to plan, the ride should be smooth’ Loki commented.

‘And when does anything go to plan where you are involved?’ Thor said, chuckling a little.

There was no response to the banter but silence and Thor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His brother was so _sensitive_ lately. Thor didn’t know anymore where to step to avoid pitfalls.

‘Let’s just… do this’ said he. ‘We all want to get off this norns-forsaken ship as quickly as possible, don’t we?’

‘Aye’ Val said. ‘That we do.’

At first, nothing happened, for a surprisingly long time. Thor wanted to activate the comms and ask what was wrong, but Heimdall laid a hand on his arm.

‘Be patient’ said he. ‘Whatever he claims, what Loki is doing is not easy.’

He had been as taciturn as always these past days, but he had been observing Loki closely too. Now, for all the calmness Heimdall pretended, Thor could sense his wariness.

‘You think he’s going to backstab us again too, don’t you?’ Thor stated.

‘Mhm’ Heimdall said neutrally. ‘It would be in character.’

Together, they watched the vastness of space outside their cockpit.

‘I admit I am not yet used to this new blindness, seeing only what is immediately in front of me, every other corner of the nine realms shrouded from my watch. I feel like stumbling in the dark’ Heimdall then said. His power of sight, like Hela’s powers, had been fed by Asgard, and now that Asgard was gone… there was woefully little left of it. ‘But your brother has always been difficult to figure out, and even more difficult to keep track of. In the past, I thought that I knew what to expect from him, roughly speaking. Now I am not so sure.’

He paused.

‘He takes great care to avoid my scrutiny’ said he then.

Thor snorted, ‘Well, _that’s_ nothing new.’

‘I suppose not’ Heimdall conceded, but he didn’t look reassured.

And then, there appeared something almost like a crack in front of the ship, as if space was just a curtain that someone had slashed through with a sword and now light was shining through.

‘It’s beginning’ breathed Thor.

And he could feel it now, the magic of the Tesseract, as it pulled open that tear into a hole that opened upon-

‘Midgard’ Heimdall said, and leant forward.

A glimpse of a planet, green and blue.

‘So he really can do it’ Heimdall said, sounding almost… awed. ‘I suspected he had lied about that though I had not understood to what benefit he would.’

The hole pulled open some more, and then again a little further.

Clouds, water, so _close_.

But the hole stopped in its growth then, and the edges of it seemed to try to pull together once more.

‘It’s not big enough’ Heimdall said.

And it was shrinking. Then opening further. Then shrinking again.

Loki was… failing.

They had only one try, Loki had said, and it was failing.

‘I need to go down there’ Thor said, hearing the desperation in his own voice. ‘Maybe I can help, I-‘

‘No’ Heimdall said, and his hand clamped down on Thor’s arm. ‘He said that your magic might ruin it. We cannot risk it. No.’

‘But he’s… he’s... failing, I…’ Thor said, feeling tears pool in his eyes.

By the Norns, all these children. He would have suffered it better if it had only been grown men, but all these children…

But then, after shrinking some more, after disappearing almost altogether, from one moment to the other, the portal flew open, grew and grew rapidly and easily, shoving ever more space apart, showing ever more of the planet that would be their salvation, until the board computer told them that the ship would fit smugly through it.

‘Full speed forward, _now_!’ Thor shouted.

He still expected the portal to close before their eyes, their hope to be snagged away again. He expected, when they were already half through, the portal to snap shut on them, breaking the ship in half, killing them all.

And when the ship’s monitoring systems announced that it had completely passed through the doorway and that they were now located in the crystal galaxy and the Terran solar system, Thor expected Midgard to flicker out of existence, just another of Loki’s grand illusions, for a hostile army or another great foe to take its place.

‘Valkyrie, you can tell Loki to close the portal’ Heimdall said over the comms and Thor stared at the planet in front of them, and was still wondering when the trap would close.

And when Heimdall said, ‘It’s strange that the portal is still there – why should Loki leave it open longer than necessary? Wielding the gem must be exhausting after all’, Thor thought that maybe here would lie the betrayal, the trick they were all still waiting for.

But then the portal did close behind them, if quite suddenly, yes, and causing a shock wave that made the ship momentarily tilt.

But it closed.

Thor opened the comms to the mess room where his highest ranking commanders were stationed (none of them actual warriors).

‘Is everyone unhurt?’ asked he.

‘Everyone unhurt here, my king’ a male voice said. ‘Only a few chairs upturned, that is all.’

‘Send out people, make sure everyone else is alright too’ Thor said.

Then he turned to stare at the planet again. They were close. They were so close it would take them mere hours until they would breach the atmosphere.

So where was the catch then?

The controls were lighting up with messages.

‘My king, someone is trying to contact us via an antiquated form of technology’ Heimdall said. ‘The ship is trying to translate the signal.’

‘It will be the mortals’ Thor said and nodded. ‘Aye, their civilisation is far behind. Can we send a message to them?’

Heimdall raised his eyebrows.

‘The question is rather whether they have instruments that can receive and read it’ murmured he, but then the ship announced that it had identified the antiquated technology and had set up a communication channel.

And Thor smirked at the very nervous Midgardian voice asking them to identify themselves.

‘They’re not used to visitors from other realms’ explained he to Heimdall who looked slightly insulted by how quickly the mortals seemed to resort to threats of violence.

‘Greetings, people of Midgard’ Thor eventually answered. ‘This is Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, protector of the nine realms, defender of Midgard, proud member of the Avengers. I and the people of Asgard have come here in peace, and in need of sanctuary. And, if you could arrange it, I would like very much to speak to Anthony Stark.’

*

Thor caused quite a bit of commotion with his announcement, and learned that apparently he had angered Fury by demanding to speak to Anthony Stark first and not to him. But in the end, the Man of Iron simply entered the conversation without permission, by ‘hacking’ the signal as he called it, though what it had to do with an axe Thor was not sure.

And Thor managed to negotiate for permission to land, and reassurance that Loki would, at least for the moment, not be extradited. Despite all they had lost, they still had much to offer a backward realm like Midgard after all. Despite being homeless, despite being refugees, so terribly diminished, they still had many things to trade with.

And maybe Thor should not have aided his brother in escaping due punishment, but he could not feel sorry for doing so. Not when Loki had just saved them all.

After he had closed the communication channel again, Thor leaned heavily on the locked control board, and allowed himself to break into a grin, even into a low chuckle.

He turned to Heimdall and saw him smile, just a little, too.

‘You made use of some decent negotiation skills there, my king’ Heimdall said and inclined his head a fraction. ‘Maybe you won’t be as incompetent a ruler as I feared.’

‘Oh, don’t pretend you had ever doubted me!’ Thor said, thumped Heimdall on the back and laughed, knowing fully well in retrospect how much of a fool he had been back at his first, failed, coronation.

If Heimdall didn’t laugh, he at least didn’t stop smiling.

Thor opened the communication channel to the machine room, ‘We have permission to land on Midgard. Val, tell Loki he’s done very, very well. From now on, he’s officially my favourite sibling.’

The delay in the response didn’t bother him at first.

Until it stretched.

He opened the channel again.

‘Valkyrie?’ asked he. ‘We have made it through the portal and have permission to land on Midgard, do you copy? Approximated arrival in five hours.’

Silence.

And Thor felt his grin slowly fade.

The catch. There was always a catch, wasn’t there?

Nothing could ever be _simple_ with Loki. Nothing could ever just _work out_.

‘Val? Loki? Do you copy?’ said he. ‘Come on, answer, we’ve escaped Death’s cold clutches, we have a victory to celebrate!’

Silence.

Then, the channel opened, and at first, Thor heard nothing but some rustling and a clank, and then breathing.

‘Valkyrie here, I copy’ he heard. The voice was distant, as if she were somewhere else in the room, and she sounded out of breath. ‘Sorry for the delay but I have my hands full. Had to shout for someone to open the channel for me. Congratulations on probably getting us off this bloody death trap of a boat, your Majesty.’

She sounded almost as if she was running. Or fighting? Or was she injured?

‘Val, what’s going on?’ asked Thor. ‘Has my… has Loki attacked you?’

‘… attacked me?’ Val laughed a bit nervously. ‘No, can’t really say he has.’

‘Where is he then?’ Thor asked, then kneaded the bridge of his nose. ‘…has he taken the Tesseract? He has taken the Tesseract, hasn’t he? When has he left?’

‘No… no, the blue cube’s still here’ Val said. ‘And so’s Lackey …more or less.’

‘… what does more or less mean, Val?’ Thor asked.

‘Well, I’m trying to _fix_ that, your Highness, ain’t I?’ Val said, something between exasperated and frantic. ‘I’m trying really hard to fix it, which is why I’m kind of _busy_ , so don’t bite my head off for this, okay? It’s not like this was my fault anyway. How was _I_ supposed to know this was going to happen? I’m a warrior, okay? Not a fucking mage!’

‘What isn’t your fault?’ Thor asked carefully calmly. ‘Valkyrie, what is going on?’

No answer for a while.

‘Well, okay, so he’s not breathing?’ said she. ‘Hasn’t been breathing for a while in fact. Also no heartbeat. At least not since I closed the portal, maybe since before that, not sure. Look, it’s not like he looked like he was dying, okay? Or like he looked dead. He sort of relaxed when the portal opened that wide, yes, but he looked perfectly fine then! Relaxed, yes, maybe a _tiny_ bit too much so, but still fucking fine! He fucking smiled. No, scratch that, the fucking asshole is still smiling! Stop smiling and start fucking breathing, you little shit!’

Maybe Val continued to rant on after that.

But at that point, Thor was already running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... oups?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... not feeling too swell. So... if you hesitate about leaving comments, know that they are very much appreciated, especially now. If you don't feel like leaving one, or don't feel up to it, know that I understand deeply - I often don't feel up to leaving comments after all. So please don't feel pressured :) <3.
> 
> In the meantime, have some mostly dead Loki and a lot of angst. And of course, Thor's distorted POV, which Thor is still dearly in love with. They are very close. It's a centuries old love.
> 
> Oh, and I've updated the tags, because there is some permanent maiming in this story, apart from Thor's canon eye-loss.

The casting circle Loki had drawn was deceptively simple. Just two lines of chalk and a few runes, but the fact that Valkyrie’s sword was embedded in the floor, cutting the lines off, told Thor at once that it had _not_ been easy to break.

That was what had ended the spell, he understood, glancing at that sword and the broken line just for a moment. It would certainly explain the rather sudden closing of the portal, even the shock wave. Because he remembered from his own lessons in weaving magic what breaking a casting circle could mean.

It was always a last resort.

Was the violence of it what had stopped his brother’s heart?

And he looked at that broken circle just for that moment because it was a moment he didn’t have to look at Loki who was lying limply on the floor, on his back, half in and half out of the circle, his chest armour cut open, and Valkyrie compressing his naked, burnt chest rapidly (hadn’t those burns healed already?). It was a moment Thor didn’t have to face this weird displaced repetition of the day their father had died and Thor had…

This couldn’t be happening again. No. It just couldn’t.

Loki’s head had fallen to the side. His eyes were closed this time, his features relaxed. The mouth was open.

And she was right. Even now, there was a small smile on his lips.

His face was greyish, and inexplicably bruised, as was his neck, and his right hand was bloody, looked… mangled, but he, he looked relaxed and at peace and there was a small smile on his lips.

His side was bandaged though, Thor noticed now, near the hip. The gauze was dark with old blood. When had he been injured there? He hadn’t said anything.

‘The healers?’ asked Thor.

‘On their way’ Val said, stopping pressing only to breathe in deeply, bend down, twist Loki’s face towards her, wrap her mouth around Loki’s, in this twisted imitation of a kiss, breathe out.

He saw his brother’s chest rise and fall.

Then she went back to the heart massage.

‘It took a while to get anyone’s attention’ said she. ‘Norns, why did I ever agree to be alone with him? I should at least have posted guards somewhere nearby. I was so fucking stupid! And he’s such an asshole!’

She turned to Loki.

‘You’re an asshole, you know that?’ said she. ‘You’re a fucking asshole!’

Loki just kept smiling. As if this were his best joke on them yet.

And then one of the healers did indeed come running in. Thor thought he had seen her in the royal palace before but he wasn’t sure.

She fell on her knees beside Loki, cast a diagnostic spell, at the same time posed several quick questions, and Val answered just as quickly. Thor had difficulty following.

But he learned that Loki had been dead for a little over fifteen minutes. At least if they assumed Loki had died when the portal had closed. Maybe Loki had died before that. Probably, his heart had stopped beating the moment the portal had opened wide enough to let them through. That was certainly what the healer seemed to assume.

It seemed there were no means available to bring Loki back. Or at least nothing that Val was not already trying. Had already been trying, while Thor had been busy negotiating their sanctuary.

Fifteen minutes of pounding on his chest and breathing air into his lungs, and still no change.

There was no sign that he would come back now.

‘Don’t worry, your Highness’ Val said, shooting him a glance. ‘I won’t let the asshole get away that easily. I’m too angry at him for that. And I can keep doing this all day.’

And then she cocked her head at Thor, ‘Well, then again, if you get like that, then just get out – I’m not working my ass off here just to get electrocuted, and neither is Fulla.’

He frowned, first unsure what she meant.

Then he looked down at his hands.

Saw the sparks running over them.

_You know you can’t control your rage very well._

No, he had never been very good at that, had he?

_A small, controlled charge, applied to the chest, to manage the cardiac fibrillation._

Huh.

It would be truly ironic if that worked. It would be a joke worthy of the God of Mischief.

He went to his knees beside his brother’s body. It was thin, thinner than Thor remembered. The bruises on his face didn’t look very old, the nose as if it had been recently broken.

Bruises on his stomach, on his side, where the gauze didn’t hide them. Bruises covering the left part of his ribs.

Bruises on his neck.

A shadow of fingers, wrapped around his throat.

Thor’s fingers, or the Hulk’s?

He didn’t remember having seen any of those marks in the last days, and they scared him – he had never been able to mark his brother as easily before. Loki healed quickly – all this should have been long since _gone_.

Why did you hide them, brother? Why must you always hide?

… why must you always leave me in the end?

‘Get away from him’ said Thor.

‘ _What_ did I just say?’ Val said. ‘If you can’t manage your temper, get out – or do you think you can _scare_ him back to life, Lord of Thunder?’

‘My king, I have to agree, please allow the Valkyrie to-‘

‘Get _away_ from him!’ he shouted, feeling the lightning fill him.

Sensible as they were, they did.

And he closed his eyes, felt for the memory of the electricity he had sensed then, that one day in Anthony Stark’s tower when they had used those metal pads, the _defibrillator_ , tried to get a sense for it, for its strength, its voltage, then opened his eyes and pressed both hands on Loki’s chest.

Loki cramped and arched violently as the sparks travelled over his body, and Thor heard Fulla gasp behind him.

But then the sparks died and the body just fell limply back to the ground.

No sign of the chest moving, nothing.

‘Thor, are you completely _out of your mind_?!’ Val shouted, her fingers in her hair.

Thor laid his fingers on Loki’s neck, felt for the pulse.

Nothing.

‘You have just electrocuted a _corpse_ , Thor!’ Val shouted. ‘What, has the obedience disc fried your _brain_? Or were you always like that? Where did you get the idea that venting your rage on a corpse is _in any way_ constructive?’

No, not a corpse. Thor wouldn’t believe that.

Instead, he reached for that very specific charge again, let it run down his arms, into his fingers, made it just a bit stronger.

And pressed his hands on Loki’s naked chest again.

The body cramped, arched.

Fell back, lifeless. Loki’s head lolled to the other side. Still smiling.

Thor laid his fingers on his neck.

Nothing.

_A day, a year, a decade, a century – it’s the blink of an eye! You will never be ready, brother!_

_Surrender is not in my nature._

I won’t just let you leave.

‘Oh _great_ , this is just my luck. I finally kill Odin’s looney daughter, the other crazy-ass prince just goes and _dies_ on me, and now the new king has gone completely mental too’ he heard Val say. ‘Well, can’t say it doesn’t run in the family.’

Thor let the charge flow into his hands a third time, again increased it.

Loki had always reproached him that he was a stubborn oaf.

Well, yes.

Thor could admit that. He was stubborn. Brutish. _Loud_.

And if Loki didn’t want to listen, then Thor would just have to raise his voice further and further, until his brother would deign to lend him an ear.

A third time, he pressed his hands on Loki’s chest.

The body seized even more violently this time, the body arched, a faint smell of burnt flesh.

And there it was – a hoarse, broken intake of breath.

And when Loki’s body fell to the ground this time, he was coughing, breathing, his eyes wide open, unfocused but open and blinking, and he was groaning, gasping, and he was _alive_.

Convulsing with obvious pain and his face white as a sheet, but alive.

‘Loki’ Thor said brokenly and laughed, ‘Brother’, reached for Loki’s face, cupped it in his hands, and turned it to him.

‘Brother’ Thor said again. ‘Welcome back.’

Loki stared at him, uncomprehending.

And then, his eyes suddenly focused.

And widened.

Loki’s breath quickened and an expression of utter horror invaded his face.

There was a strange scraping sound, and when Thor turned to it, he saw that Loki’s hands were searching for purchase on the floor.

Trying to push himself away. Away from _Thor_.

What-

Abruptly, Thor let go of Loki’s face and Loki’s head dropped back on the ground with a thud.

Somebody was saying something but Thor had trouble listening.

Because Loki’s wide, terrified eyes were still on him, and he was still trying to push himself away, frantically, with all the strength that he didn’t possess, taking shallow quick breaths, a high whimper-

‘What is-‘

Tears in Loki’s eyes, his hands searching for grip, his right bleeding heavily again, a sob-

‘Loki’ Fulla said, and turned Loki’s face to her. ‘Loki, look at me. I’m Fulla, do you recognise me?’

Loki searched her face, tears running down his cheeks, then he opened his mouth.

‘Not…’ said he hoarsely, weakly, his eyes pleading. ‘Not… this. Please… _please_ … use… Heimdall’s sword, the… airlocks, anything-‘

He gasped for air, ‘…but please, please, _mercy_ -‘

And ice-cold horror filled Thor as it dawned on him what Loki was saying.

‘Brother’ said he, feeling suffocated. ‘This was not… I did this to _save_ you!’

Loki’s head snapped to him again, but his breathing didn’t calm down, in the contrary, turned into high wheezes-

‘Loki, look at _me_! There is no one else, focus on _me_!’ Fulla said again, turned Loki’s face back to her. ‘There is just me, okay? And I just need you to answer a question, Loki. Just one. You’re suffering from magical exhaustion. Has mage mead helped you with that in the past?’

Loki stared at her, disoriented. Then he slowly nodded.

‘So I can use mage mead on you, Loki?’ Fulla asked again. ‘It will _not_ harm you?’

But Loki’s eyes were already losing their focus, and they drifted half-way shut. His breathing was slowing.

‘Loki? Do you hear me? Loki?’

Fulla slapped him on the cheek a little, but Loki didn’t respond, not even by twitching.

‘Oh by the Norns-‘

She pulled a small vial out of pocket of her gown, ‘prop him up, _now_ , make sure his mouth is open, we don’t have any time to lose.’

While Val and Thor were pulling the limp body into a more or less upright position, Thor cradling him from behind, Val tilting his head back and opening his mouth, Fulla uncorked the bottle of the vial and whispered spells to the viscous liquid inside.

‘Massage his throat, he _needs_ to swallow this’ said she and held the vial over Loki’s parted lips, tilted it.

Seven times seven drops she let fall on Loki’s tongue, counting them carefully, while Valkyrie massaged his throat, made sure Loki swallowed.

*

Thor was not sure what difference the mage’s mead had made.

When he was running with Fulla to the improvised healing rooms of the Statesman, Loki was just as heavy and limp and unresponsive in his arms as he had been before Fulla had administered the potion.

His eyes still half-shut, unseeing.

His head lolling around with the movement.

Fulla had her hand on Loki’s chest for the whole run. And Thor could see her whispering under her breath. Could feel her magic streaming into his brother’s body.

And then, they had arrived, and Thor had to give his brother up, to the few healers Asgard still had, who all crowded around Loki immediately.

He heard Fulla shout commands, ‘We need to strengthen his heart, or it will just give out again!’, saw them cutting at Loki’s clothes, ‘And don’t just assume you can treat him like you would an Aesir, he’s Jotnar, remember?’, revealing the bandaging that was still covering Loki’s left arm (so that too hadn’t yet healed), ‘Anyone here who has _any_ experience with treating Jotnar? Or knows anything about their physiology _at all_?’, then he felt a slight tug at his elbow.

He turned. Valkyrie.

‘Come on’ said she, and eyed the healers with a frown. ‘We are useless here. We always are.’

He let himself be dragged out, let her close the door.

Then she was standing there, her hands on her hips, her gaze somewhere far away.

‘Look, Thor, I swear, if I had realised earlier-‘

‘Val, peace, this is not your-’ began Thor tiredly.

‘I had to keep an eye on the instruments’ Val interrupted him. ‘And like I said, at first it didn’t look like something was _wrong_ , exactly. And it wasn’t like I could observe him _all_ the time. But then we’d passed the portal, and it wouldn’t close, and I turned around to him, asking him why he wouldn’t close it, and he was fucking _hovering_ there in mid-air, bathed in that blue light, his face so fucking relaxed and smiling and the Tesseract still floating between his hands but his face was just a bit too _still_ , you know what I’m saying? And then I saw that his right hand was kind of getting fucking transparent, like I could see right through it, as if it were not really there anymore, you know, and I started shouting at him but he wouldn’t react, and I sort of panicked and I broke the circle like he had told me to, and he just dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, and fuck – fucking dead, man.’

Thor frowned.

‘He told you to break the circle?’

Val shrugged.

‘Fail-safe, he said, if something went wrong’ said she. ‘And yeah, I asked him what would happen to him if I did that – I’m not fucking stupid. He said that if it came to that, it wouldn’t make a difference anymore.’

‘Did he now?’ Thor said and looked away.

It might have been a lie. It might not have been. Thor had never advanced in his magic studies enough to know.

‘Fucking asshole’ said she. ‘If he survives and I find out he arranged this, I’m gonna fucking kill him.’

Thor flinched, felt the urge to either punch her or to turn away completely from what she was implying.

And he wondered whether to reprimand her for cursing his brother, her _prince_ , who was fighting for his very life in the room right next to them.

But he supposed any reprimand would be pretty futile in her case.

And who knew whether Loki was really fighting?

‘I need a drink’ said Val then, rubbed her nose, tapped her foot on the ground. Blinked.

Thor would have needed one too, that was for sure. Only…

‘I have to make sure that we arrive safely on Midgard… and I will probably have to ask Anthony Stark for help concerning my brother again.’

Maybe his voice had broken at that.

He closed his eyes, breathed in and out, shakily.

Well, then, he thought. You can’t afford to crumble, King Thor. Or, at least not yet.

There was a lot to do still before the day was over.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Oskenn saw it coming already in Chapter 6:](https://archiveofourown.org/comments/328714057)
> 
> Loki *nearly dies because he tried to fight the apocalypse whilst on the edge of a heart attack*  
> Thor: Don't worry it wasn't me this time! This time, it was just because of our sister :3  
> Tony, on the verge of tears: what the fuck is wrong with your family
> 
> Last chapter for now, and just a very short one to wrap up the drama - like I said, I don't know yet when I will post again, but it might be a while.
> 
> You gave me so much love yesterday when I could really need it! <3 I love you all, and I frigging love this very supportive community! *author goes crying for a bit, but in a good way*  
> Good news is that my gran is already bored in the hospital (and that it wasn't Covid). I'm going to visit her today and bring her books :).

‘You need _what_?’

‘I know I’m asking a great favour of you, Anthony Stark, _again_ , but-‘

‘No, seriously, Thor, this feels like a repeat. This feels like Groundhog Day. Is this Groundhog Day?’

‘I… do not know what you’re talking about, but-‘

‘How… how did this even happen? How does he… keep dying on you like _every two weeks_? No, scratch that, it hasn’t even _been_ two weeks! Don’t tell me you struck Loki with a bolt of lightning _a second time_!’

‘No! No, I mean… yes, but-‘

‘ _Seriously_ , Thor?!’

‘It was a controlled charge, to bring him back, like that device your healers used, the-‘

‘Defibrillator.’

‘Yes, like… that. His heart was still, the heart massage… wasn’t enough. Valkyrie tried for over fifteen minutes and he wouldn’t… I had to… do something.’

‘ _Jesus_.’

Thor heard breathing on the other line.

‘Okay, I’ll be there with the jet and my medical team and get him to the tower, pronto. Will provide for security too, because I still don’t trust Fury not to just shoot my jet out of the sky if that rids him of your little brother. But… we’ll do our best, but I can’t promise anything, okay? Can’t believe he flat-lined again. And for that long too. _Jesus_ , Thor.’

‘I still don’t know that person you keep referring to, Anthony Stark.’

‘No, you wouldn’t, would you? Fuck, man. I can’t believe I’m gonna try and save Loki’s life a second time this month. You owe me, you know that? Big time.’

‘I am aware’ Thor said and sighed. ‘Big time.’

*

Later that day, sitting on his bed in his chambers on the Statesman, Thor didn’t know whether he felt more like crying or more like lying down without even untying his boots and sleeping for three days straight.

He knew that there was a lot he should be grateful for. For Heimdall bringing the Statesman down on the Midgardian ground without an incident for once – the Valkyrie had not been wrong, this ship really was a falling-apart death trap. He definitely should be grateful for the Kingdom of the United States granting them the temporary permission to stay where they were, somewhere on a field in the countryside, providing them with food, water, blankets and medical supplies. He should be grateful for having been able to open the statesman’s ramps and breathing in real air, for the fact that the life support system could now simply use Midgard’s atmosphere to ventilate the ship and that for the first time in days, he didn’t have a lingering headache.

For the fact that Asgard’s children could run around outside in the field, and that they didn’t have to go to bed hungry anymore. That Asgard’s king now did not have to look forward to watching them slowly suffocate.

For the fact that Tony had been there as promised, with his jet and Dr Marco and other healers, that he had taken Loki with him, and…

Thor hugged himself, pressed his eyes shut.

Loki had been carried out on a stretcher, every inch of skin visible covered in glowing healing runes. Fulla hadn’t dared to take her hand off Loki’s chest even for a second.

She had looked exhausted.

Anthony Stark had stared at Loki, had stared at Thor then.

Thor had fled his eyes.

He hadn’t been able to go with his brother. Fulla had gone, but he had had to stay here, because he was a king, and his people needed him, and he knew that, and yet he, he…

At least, he knew Loki was still alive. Anthony Stark had promised to call him if… that changed.

He hugged himself closer.

_If he survives and I find out he arranged this, I’m gonna fucking kill him._

…

He had been in Loki’s room today. With that vague idea of picking up at least some of the books and sending them with Loki to New York, so that he would have something that was _his_ close to him when he woke up (and he _would_ wake up. He had to. He _had_ to).

But as cluttered as Loki’s rooms had been during the Statesman’s journey, as cluttered as any chambers that Loki inhabited had the tendency to become (very quickly), when Thor had stepped into them today, they had been… clean.

Empty.

They had looked untouched, really, the bed made, the blanket on it neatly folded, as if Loki had never even been there.

Every. Single. Trace. Gone.

It must have taken time. Loki must have busied himself for an hour, maybe two, just with erasing his presence from the Statesman. From Thor’s life.

Until there was nothing left of him. No reminder.

What had he said that day during the council meeting?

_The risk? That I fail and you remain stuck here!_

You, not we.

 _We will have only one try_ , he had said.

So it probably would have killed him even if he had not been successful.

 _My plan is to bring every Asgardian on this ship safely to Midgard,_ he had said.

Every _Asgardian_.

_And I will not keep you from taking the Tesseract from me afterwards either._

No, he wouldn’t, would he?

He had kept _all_ his oaths. And he hadn’t even lied.

Not exactly.

The catch. The betrayal.

There Thor had it.

He sobbed into his hands.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:  
> 1\. Yeah, I know I wanted to update the Prestige first. But my inspiration thought otherwise  
> 2\. I've got five chapters for you in this batch and I solemnly swear you will only have to put up with Thor POV in the first one.  
> 3\. I've updated the tags. Please be especially aware of the tag 'I've never understood the concept of 'too much whump''. If you tell me that I am whumping Loki too much and that this is unrealistic, I will just look at you with big eyes and incomprehension and keep whumping/mostly killing Loki as much as I want anyway, which is often and a lot.  
> 4\. There are also some other tags, especially referring to chronic illness. Please be aware that some of that includes respiratory problems and a chronic heart condition. In times of Covid, it might be triggering - please take care and stay safe.  
> 5\. Relationships: This fic is going in a Steve/Loki direction, but there might also be Tony/Loki (because they can't help starting to flirt), so we might be looking at a love triangle of sorts. Just putting that here and updating the tags. I don't know how sexual these ships can become, because of trauma and consent issues.  
> 6\. I know I'm bad at answering comments at the moment. I'm sorry. I absolutely LOVE your comments (sweet, sweet soul food), but answering is really hard sometimes.  
> 7\. I'm rambling. I know when I'm rambling. Most of the time. Don't let anybody tell you different.

Four days after the Statesman had landed on Midgard, Loki still hadn’t woken up and his heart was still beating so very weakly, again and again losing its rhythm.

Thor had still had no possibility to go visit him.

No, that was a lie. But he had not gone anyway. In truth, he was afraid, afraid to look at his brother as he was now, sleeping, still, weaker even than he had been after Thor had… after the accident had happened. Bruises covering his body that Thor had caused. And it had been very heavily implied that Thor would not be welcome at the tower in any case. Natasha Romanoff, and Anthony Stark, and Steve Rogers, they had all reminded him again and again of his duties, his responsibilities. Had said that the best he could do right now was care for his people (to stay away).

And had fled his eyes.

They did not want him there. They did not want him near them, they all kept their distance, all looked at him warily, and Thor didn’t understand, and didn’t know how to change it.

It was all slipping out of his control, as if even unconscious, struggling to stay alive, Loki was still able to entrap him in his scheming.

And he had run out of time. Already, it was time to leave the Kingdom of the United States behind. Just like Loki had predicted on their way to Midgard, Norway had granted them permanent asylum and the right to set up a small settlement at its coast, up in the North.

It would be cold, and dark in the winter. Difficult to get used to for a people who had lived in warmth and light and prosperity.

Loki would probably like it.

As it was, the Statesman barely made it there. The knowledge that soon they would leave this wreck of a ship behind for good only made the Asgardians more enthusiastic to use the materials the Norwegian government had given them and _build_.

Asgardians were strong and tough and didn’t tire easily, much less so when they had enough air to breathe and enough food to eat. The days were terribly short but Thor rose long before the sun, and worked long into the night. He was glad for the distraction from the lack of news from New York.

He told himself that no news was good news.

Loki’s heart was still beating, however weakly and arhythmically. He had still not woken up, but he was still breathing.

He was still there.

One evening, looking for something he might be able to turn into a tool among his weapons, he stumbled upon a longish parcel wrapped in dark green silk.

It was not his. He was certain of that – he didn’t possess enough anymore to forget any of his belongings.

He unwrapped the silk carefully, only to find… Loki’s daggers.

He recognised them at once of course.

Because it was the pair Loki had loved the most, the ones Frigga had gifted to him when he had reached his maturity. They had been Frigga’s once, made for her by the dwarves and the Vanir, and they were long, and beautiful, and oh so very sharp and deadly.

Loki had been possessive about them to an obnoxious degree – had hated when Thor had so much as looked at them wrong, let alone dared to touch them.

Until he had hidden them among Thor’s weapons, probably the same day he had opened the portal.

_My plan is to bring every Asgardian on this ship safely to Midgard._

_And I will not keep you from taking the Tesseract from me afterwards either._

Thor stared at them, at the sharp, perfectly polished blades, then just wrapped them up again, put them right back where he had found them, pressed his hands on his eyes.

Then he started going through all of his stuff, methodically. His hands were shaking, but he was thorough.

Loki had left only one other object.

Hidden in a pocket of Thor’s duffel bag, the leather band knotted to a strap so Thor wouldn’t accidentally lose it, he found it. A snake forming a knot, carved out of wood, a pendant on a leather necklace.

It was very, _very_ old and in some places, especially at the end of the tail and at the head, the wood was smooth, looked almost polished, the details faded, as if it had been touched or rubbed often.

Thor had carved it out of a single, very hard piece of chestnut wood once. He must not even have been one and a half centuries old then. And it showed – he had been so proud of his work then, but now he could see how clumsy the handicraft really was, how unpractised. The snake’s body was crooked, as if someone had broken its spine, and its expression lopsided as if it was a bit soft in the head. The grin on its face was childish.

He had never had a talent for these things – for anything fine, or delicate.

But Loki, back then, had been very impressed with Thor’s skill. And he had wanted the snake for himself at once. Thor had refused, had clutched the pendant close to his chest.

So, naturally, Loki had stolen it.

And had never given it back.

Thor had spotted it in later centuries sometimes – it would hang somewhere from Loki’s trousers, from his saddle, from his sword. Sometimes, when he was in a very silly mood, he would wear it around his neck.

But Thor had assumed Loki must have thrown it away eventually. Or lost it.

He hadn’t seen it in a long while.

He fell back on his ass, holding it in his hand now.

Stroking over the wood, over where it was rough, over where it was smooth.

Neither the daggers nor the pendant had been placed anywhere obvious, nowhere where Thor find them soon.

Nothing indicated they were gifts or a legacy at all. Loki had hidden them among his belongings as if they had always been there.

As if they were unimportant.

Insignificant.

_My plan is to bring every Asgardian on this ship safely to Midgard._

_Asgard has lost enough, I think._

Thor thought of Loki’s tear-jerking play about his faked death, of the ridiculous statue he had erected of himself.

He rubbed the head of the wooden snake, thought back to the day Loki had created the portal, to the last time Thor had seen his brother before.

Loki had probably already cleaned his room by then, had probably already hidden the dagger and the snake among Thor’s things.

Had he ever said anything like good-bye?

He remembered nothing. Only Loki’s nerves, his tension. What was the last thing Thor had said to his brother?

_And when does anything go to plan where you are involved?_

Loki had not answered to that.

He thought of Loki looking around himself as he had been hanging on to Gungnir, looking at the destroyed Bifrost, as everything was falling to ruins around him.

_No, Loki._

Loki had said nothing then either.

He thought of his brother’s hand uncurling from Gungnir.

No scream.

It had been such a silent fall.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of Loki POV! :)  
> As always, Loki POV should be its own trigger warning.

He hesitated, in the end. Even as he conjured the Tesseract into his hands inside the casting circle, knowing exactly what this would demand of him, he hesitated, and he was afraid. Rightly so, he thought, looking down at the gem that was calling out to him.

_Let me take you. I will have you. Let me have you._

And he knew of course that the gem _would_ have him. There was simply no other way this could end.

Even using the Tesseract just to escape Sutur’s rage had weakened him so much that he had barely made it to a hiding place on the Statesman before he had fallen unconscious for hours. He had woken groggy, breathless, his life force dangerously drained. Lying in a pool of blood from the wound in his side. He had needed another few hours of rest before being able to stand without gasping for air.

And ever since then, the cough had been back, the cough that had him hack up pinkish foam. He remembered that cough from his childhood, after that first accident with Thor.

Sickly runt.

His battle wound too hadn’t healed as it should have. At least, it hadn’t been poisoned. That would certainly have been worse.

But the fact remained that the Tesseract was greedy, and with everything that had happened, Loki’s defences against it were too weakened, he too damaged and small a vessel to contain it without coming apart at the seams.

So he had known.

He had known long before he had spoken up at the council. And once the decision had been made, once the solution to their problem had been proposed and reluctantly approved of ( _you must be truly desperate, Thor, to come to me for help_ ), he had felt surprisingly calm at the prospect.

Calm like he had been after Thor had sprung him from Asgard’s dungeons so to avenge their mother’s death, and Loki had known then too (or thought he had known) what he would have to do. What was asked of him.

And he had been wrong then (had he been?), but he was sure of Thor’s wishes now (was he?).

At the very least, the persistent voice that told him to walk into one of the airlocks, close it and chuck himself out into space each time he had to cough – it had abated. And that… that had been a much needed reprieve.

It was alright. He had been _allowed_ to breathe a little longer. He had still had a use. He had still had a purpose.

Save Asgard twice over.

A more glorious one, truly, than he deserved, come to think of it.

But in that moment when he opened the portal, when he finally got the change to _fulfil_ that purpose, that use, the resistance still rose as suddenly as vehemently, just like in the vault before putting Sutur’s crown into the fire. The useless and unwanted desire to live flaring up like a flame, bright and ephemeral, in a fire that had looked on the surface extinguished.

 _No_ , he thought, against his own will, just like he had thought in that vault.

No, I don’t want it yet to end. I don’t _want_ it to.

…

Hah.

So even in your last hour, you choose to be a coward.

Because he was a coward, he had grabbed the Tesseract then, had used it to escape, had later claimed that he had done that just to protect the gem (and it _would_ have been left defenceless).

And because he was a coward, he clung to this resistance now too, at first. Didn’t give it his all. When the Tesseract that he had saved from the Titan for a bit longer called to him, he threw up his brittle shields, tried to hold back, tried to save his own skin. Because that was who he was.

But all your tricks won’t help you here, trickster. You can die now, as a son of Asgard, or live a little longer, as Jotnar vermin, and waste the air of your betters. And then die with the rest.

It is either this or the air locks, you know that. If you don’t chuck yourself into space, Thor will.

Because the portal remained too small, he knew. It didn’t open enough because _he_ didn’t open himself enough.

He tried to stretch it, but as soon as it grew a bit further, it shrank again, and he already felt the exhaustion, his heart fluttering like a little bird’s. So quickly out of breath these days. You will die of this either way, runt. Your price will be paid. You can take Asgard with you, or not.

What will it be, Loki? Choose!

You know what is asked of you.

Yes, Thor.

Yes, I know.

 _Let me take you. I will have you_.

The Tesseract’s song. A lure, and Loki knew it for what it was, and yet he would follow. Had to follow. Follow his desire and Thor’s and in one selfish gesture save them all, and maybe, maybe he would be done then. Maybe it would be over.

I don’t want it to be over.

No, maybe not. But you know perfectly well that it hasn’t mattered for a long time what you want.

 _Yes_ , he said, and yet knew he would die with fear in his heart.

Unworthy.

_Take me._

When he breathed out, and opened himself fully, let it all in, he had a moment, just a moment, in the deluge of power that hit him, to think, so _this_ is what delight feels like! Have I deserved this?

He found that in this moment of delight, he didn’t care.

The next moment, he was already gone.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more Loki POV and everything that entails, aka Loki is a mess

Loki didn’t dream of this later. It remained a knowledge, vague and evading his grasp but always there, in the background, that moment of pure happiness, at the same time of pure peace.

He dreamt of shadows chasing him through the royal palace instead, grabbing him and pulling him into sticky, wet holes. He dreamt of scaled hands that were first groping and then tearing apart his skin, shoving whole arms into his abdomen and squishing his organs. Him squirming on the floor, screaming, while Thor and Odin were standing right next to him, having a conversation that had nothing to do with him at all.

Loki called out for help, but they never turned around.

Loki dreamt of something impacting on his chest, breaking bones that splintered, tore through him, then he dreamt of dining with his mother, the sounds of the cutlery loud in her chambers, when suddenly Thor burst into the room, eyes blazing white. He dreamt of being dragged through Asgard’s street by Thor, all Asgard crying their disgust at him. He dreamt of Thor bringing down his hammer on his chest again and again, breaking his ribs, smashing his lungs, his heart, his everything, until there was nothing left of Loki but a beaten mass of flesh. He dreamt of his mother, standing next to them, and looking at the mass of flesh that had been Loki with pity and disappointment in her eyes, shaking her head.

Please don’t make this worse.

He dreamt of white light tearing through him, and with it hatred so cold, a judgement so clear.

He dreamt of falling.

Of seeing things that he couldn’t understand, that made him want to claw his eyes out. He dreamt of screaming and making no sound.

He dreamt of falling.

He dreamt of a heavy mass of flesh pressing down on him, everywhere, rutting against him, and he couldn’t get out from under it, he couldn’t-

He dreamt of Mjolnir hitting his chest again and again.

He dreamt of Thor’s eyes blazing white.

He dreamt of falling.

He dreamt of claws tearing into his flesh, a body tearing right into him. He fought. He fought.

No, he didn’t.

He didn’t, in the end.

He dreamt of giving in. He dreamt of a smile, indulgent.

See, you can be good for something. You can be useful.

Being useful made the pain go away. He just wanted the pain to go away.

He dreamt of that hope even when the claws were back.

The claws. The claws.

He dreamt of giving in.

Such an immensely heavy weight was lying on him, it was crushing him. And he, he just gave in. He dreamt of crumbling, of his body flattening underneath that weight, disappearing.

See? You can be of use. This is better, isn’t it?

He dreamt of becoming so small that he fell between the cracks of the floor.

Falling, falling.

He heard his name being called.

He was told he was safe.

He wanted to laugh at that, but couldn’t.

He heard his name being called.

A cool sensation on his forehead. The rest of him so hot. Some giant body lying on him, smothering him, so hot. Rutting. Moving inside of him, impaling him. Cupping his tiny heart in their hand and _squeezing_. He couldn’t move even a finger underneath them. He was suffocating.

The blinding white light. The blinding white pain.

He wants to kill me. This time, he really wants to kill me!

You cannot run fast enough.

He was running, but he was so slow, and Thor was coming nearer, was already so close, Loki could smell him, could smell-

His name being called. Someone told him he was safe. Something cool on his forehead. And then he felt it, seidr, soothing, running all over him. Taking away the blinding white pain, some of the terrible heat. The hand around his heart loosened its clutch.

Healing.

Eir?

No, not Eir, the person told him.

He didn’t understand.

And he was too tired.

*

The world slowly came back, or Loki was not sure whether it did. Or Loki was not sure which world came back exactly. Sometimes, he thought he was on Asgard and that Eir was tending to him, maybe after some adventure gone wrong, maybe after a punishment?

But Eir kept repeating that she wasn’t Eir.

And her hands felt different on him, her seidr felt different.

He didn’t understand. It was always Eir caring for him, it had always been Eir. Thor and the others had been cared for by whoever was there, but he, he had _always_ only had Eir.

The others hadn’t wanted to… sully themselves with…

‘No, Loki – we weren’t allowed.’

That… didn’t make sense. So he forgot it. Again and again.

The world around him was strange, and he didn’t recognise the faces staring down at him. Sometimes, he could understand what they were saying, and sometimes he couldn’t. He could see in their eyes that he must have done them a great wrong.

And that, that fit.

Again and again, the hand was back, squeezing his heart, his chest _burned_.

Sometimes, he woke up and realised it had all been a dream, and he was back in that… place, back with _Him_ , and he, he-

Eir told him he was safe, but she wasn’t Eir, and so he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t!

Her magic felt foreign, and he didn’t want it near him, because only Eir tended to him, and if she wasn’t Eir, then _who was she_ , what did she _want_ from him, what was her magic doing, he-

*

He learned that he was on Midgard. He didn’t understand why.

He learned that the healer’s name was Fulla, and then he finally recognised her face. One of the royal healers who had never touched him. Disgusted by what he was.

No, she hadn’t even known what he was, he learned. She hadn’t been allowed to tend to him.

He was too tired to think about that. Too breathless. Too hot. There was no hand around his heart of course but it still felt like it was there, squeezing, burning. The recurring sensation of something heavy falling on his chest, squishing him beneath, as if he were the anvil for Thor’s hammer. He coughed up pinkish foam, and that hadn’t happened since his childhood. His left arm felt as if someone had filled it with coals, except when he didn’t feel it at all. His right hand was wrapped in gauze, but the shape looked wrong. He tried not to think about that too much. It was easy to forget.

The darkness dragged him away, into disjointed dreams full of fear.

Then he woke up, remembered _everything_. Thor’s blazing white eyes, that terrible cold anger. The realisation that this time, Loki had gone too far. The realisation that this time, Thor would really kill him. He remembered running even though it was no use. He remembered that moment when the bolt of lightning tore through him, and with the bolt, all that anger, all that hate, filling him whole, replacing everything that he was with Thor’s command that he should finally, finally _die_ -

Fulla and another healer, a mortal, they were there at once. Fulla whispering her spell, foreign magic trying to calm him, but he remembered her now, and he grabbed her arm, because he _knew_ now. Thor had finally lost his patience, Loki’s life was forfeit, why was he even still there? ‘Not this!’ he said, because he remembered Thor’s face, the blazing white eyes, remembered the pain of the shocks going through him, and he knew what he could and what he couldn’t bear, not this, and if he had to beg for this mercy, then he would _beg_ , for any other death than this, any other form of execution, just not, not-

 _Please_ don’t make me die from his hate.

 _Please_.

He was told that Thor was not there, was not going to kill him, that he was safe, that he had saved Asgard and was not for the axe.

That… didn’t fit.

He wasn’t sure _what_ he remembered, but he was sure he remembered differently.

But his eyelids were getting heavier, and the fear got too difficult to hold onto.

So he let it all go.

*

When he woke again, his left arm was still blazingly hot, and the rest of him only slightly cooler. His head was pounding, felt like an overinflated balloon, felt like it was about to burst, and his throat and tongue dry, the sensation of something squeezing his heart still there. His vision a bit foggy. His limbs so heavy. He didn't... he wasn't sure he felt his left side right, or... something was wrong, something... scraping, shuffling, all those sounds coming from directly above him, as if he were underwater, but...

There was a vague memory of dreams, but nothing concrete. He only knew that he had screamed, that he had been afraid.

Like a child. How shaming.

But he recognised the room around him this time, remembering that he had been here before. Remembered pain, and Fulla, and Dr Marco, and bandages and salve. Remembered being shifted, poked, being jostled. Remembered someone trying to make him swallow something. Healing halls. In the end, they were all the same.

Loki turned his head a little and after some blinking identified the person sitting at his bedside as Anthony Stark.

Ah, yes. Him. The very man whose _guest_ Loki currently was.

The mortal was looking at him with his face deliberately blank, but the distrust was still discernible. It was still very obvious from the man’s body language that he was uncomfortable, that he did not want to be here, with Loki, in this room.

A vague memory that Loki had wronged him. That he had wronged everyone here gravely.

Well, that was likely enough.

‘Hey, sleeping villain beauty’ Stark said. The voice muffled, coming not from where the man sat but from above Loki's head again. ‘Do you know where you are, today?’

Loki nodded. He did.

His breath was rattling, he noticed.

The villain, then.

He racked his brain for what crimes he might have committed on this world. He remembered only this room, and flailing and screaming, but that couldn’t have been it. There was something he was missing.

‘And me? Do you recognise me?’

Apart from the voice, there were other sounds that he couldn't identify. Everything too close. What...

‘Anthony Stark’ Loki said, hearing how croaky his voice sounded. ‘A king of this world.’

As if underwater.

‘Not exactly.’

Am I underwater?

Loki dismissed that with a hand wave, both the thought and Stark's protest.

‘Close enough.’

Then he actually looked at that hand that he had just waved. It was wrapped in gauze. But the shape was wrong, as if…

He turned it, looking at it from all sides. It was too… slim, for a hand. It looked like the limb of another species.

 _Monster_.

No, the Jotnar had five fingers too. Something… something else then.

‘You lost part of your hand’ Stark said (but the voice too close) and nodded toward the limb. ‘When you wielded the Tesseract.’

The _Tesseract_.

Loki frowned.

He… _knew_ that name. From where?

Father had spoken of it, so long ago, yes, had named it as one of the infinity gems. There were six of them, and Odin had pointed out their drawings in a book. Space, reality, time, power, soul, and mind.

 _Mind_.

Yellow, Loki thought, the mind gem was yellow and it took _everything_.

Everything that he was… just pulling away from him as if sucked back into the sea by the retreating tide.

All that he was had never been his, he had known in that moment, and he could still feel that pull as it all just…

All that he was, had just been… borrowed.

But the next moment, the memory of the Tesseract and the _deal_ slammed into him, and with that, Loki’s mind shut the doors to that other moment, shut the doors to the mind stone, bolted them shut, and it was _gone_ , and the room was back, his vision was back, the sound, still underwater, and he laughed, coldly.

‘Do you always treat your invaders so kindly?’ asked he, voice acidic, dropping that foreign limb (his hand) that was somehow still connected to him and cocking his head instead.

Because he _did_ remember his crimes against Midgard now as they had been enumerated at his sentencing. He knew what he had done. He had brought an army here, an army of monsters led by the worst of them all.

_You bring death and destruction wherever you go._

‘Nah, you get special treatment, Reindeer Games’ Stark said and grinned, showing his teeth. ‘So, does the return of your snark mean you’re feeling better?’

Well enough to face your punishment?

Probably.

Loki remembered being defeated on this realm, even though he was not clear on how exactly this had happened. But the shortness of breath, the coughing, the impaired hearing, the memory of Thor’s rage – yes, Thor must have struck him down.

He had struck the monster down with lightning and then had left it behind. Let the mortals deal with the half-dead beast, it was no threat anymore. This must have been what had happened. It sounded true to him. True enough.

But then why did he remember a sentencing on Asgard?

Contradictions. Be careful not to get entangled in them.

‘And what exactly does my health matter to you?’ Loki said. Nursing me only to be able to break me down more slowly later?

Stark’s mask cracked a bit at Loki’s words – for some reason, they troubled the mortal.

‘Isn’t that just the question?’ Stark said, looking the god over pensively. Still so uncomfortable.

You don’t want to look at me. My sight disturbs you. Well, it should.

But Loki couldn’t study the mortal’s face in all details – his vision was too fuzzy for that. His thoughts too sluggish. Some of them, too many, slipped his grasp, ran where he couldn’t follow them. Stark shifted in his chair, but again, the scraping sound didn't come from Stark's direction, it came directly from above Loki's head, he winced.

Too close, _too close_.

Sounds like underwater. This is familiar. Should be familiar. You know this - remember! You wrecked your ear again. You know what you have to do.

But he was tired.

Too tired even for this small spell?

How was he supposed to talk himself out of his punishment like that? How was he supposed to _defend_ himself when he could barely-

He breathed more quickly, then had to cough. Wiped his mouth with the bandaged stump of a hand. Pinkish foam.

Didn’t know what to do with the box the mortal handed him.

‘Want a tissue, Rudolph?’ the mortal said, shaking the box.

Loki leaned back, not knowing what to do with that question either, gasping for air. Everything _too close_. Every rustle, every rattle.

An escape. He needed to find an escape. Something.

What a laughable idea – you probably can’t even sit up without help. You gasp for air lying down!

Sickly vermin.

For a moment, he closed his eyes.

Trapped. He was trapped. At least for the moment.

Calm down, you dumb beast. Consider your options. Making a run for it is currently not one of them.

He wondered what to expect. He was vaguely certain that Thor had been there before. He vaguely remembered reassuring Thor of his recovery, using glamours when his words hadn’t sufficed. Maybe he hadn’t been abandoned here after all.

Maybe not.

After all, Thor could be overcome by moods of guilt, sometimes.

Loki just never could predict _when_. Or how long they would last.

He opened his eyes again.

‘You made a deal with my brother, didn’t you?’ asked he croakily, and another memory came to him. ‘To offer me healing.’

But what exactly did you promise him? What exactly did Thor promise in return? How much wiggle room does that leave you?

Thor never looked too closely at such deals. Never at the details.

Stark grimaced (regretting the deal already), then nodded.

‘I guess so’ said he. ‘But don’t worry, we didn’t let him stay at the tower this time, okay? We haven’t actually let him near you since you arrived. He’s in Norway.’

Ah.

That left them a lot of wiggle room then.

Loki couldn’t say he was surprised.

‘With the other Asgardians, you know? They’re building a settlement. New Asgard, they call it. Not very original, but what do you want. I guess they have other problems than creative naming to think about, and I’m living in fucking New York, so I really don’t have the higher ground there, come to think of it. Okay, I’m rambling. I can recognise when I’m rambling. Sometimes. Let no one tell you different, especially not Pepper.’

For a moment, Loki was entirely lost, wanted to ask the mortal what the Norns he was rambling _about_ , before he remembered Hela. The battle. Sutur.

Remembered the hesitation as he had stood in the vault, Sutur’s crown already in his hands, with Thor’s command so clearly in his mind, looking at the fire, and knowing how it would _burn_. How it would consume him entirely, in mere seconds.

So he wouldn’t have had to suffer long. No fate, truly, to fear.

But fire. If only it hadn’t been _fire_.

And then glancing sideways at the Tesseract.

Thinking – but I can’t leave it here anyways. It will survive the flames, and the Titan will take it.

And so he had put the crown into the fire like Thor had asked, but hadn’t perished in the fire like Thor had wanted.

Had escaped unscathed instead, the coward (no, so to save the gem), while Asgard, the home that had never been his, that he had hated, and loved, had _burned to the ground_.

You bring death and destruction everywhere you go.

And now he was here. With Fulla and the mortals and the very empty promise that they would not hurt him whilst Thor himself was not around to make sure they wouldn’t.

Loki had killed so many Midgardians. What had been the exact number again? One thousand four hundred eighty-seven. Yes – that knowledge felt certain at least. He could remember them repeating it at his sentencing, several times. Such an absurdly high number for such a short time.

‘I understand’ said he.

He did.

He was alone in this. Maybe Fulla was there to ensure that he wouldn’t die. But maybe not. He didn’t know her – she was a stranger to him. What reason would she have to wish him well?

And in the end, even Eir… she had seldom stood in the way of punishment. There had seldom been a good enough reason to.

‘Look’ Stark said, opened his mouth, and closed it again. ‘What I wanted to say is, I…’

Again, he broke off the sentence, looked away.

‘Fuck this’ he murmured. ‘What am I even…’

‘Whatever you have on your chest, mortal’, Loki said, still short-breathed. One thousand four hundred eighty-seven, in just a little more than two days. If Thor had every claimed such a number, coming from a battle, Fandrall would have laughed at him, saying that he was telling tales. ‘Just out with it. I will be not less annoyed about your meaningless tattle if I have to wait for it.’

Don’t make me wait for my sentence.

One thousand four hundred eighty-seven. Mortals were fragile, yes. But still.

But no, that was not right, was it? He had not killed them all personally. He had had help. An army.

Such sharp claws. Monsters following a monster. But he was getting confused again. He had to get this right. He needed to get himself together.

You are not safe, Loki. Get back to your feet.

You need to at least be able to tell where the attack is coming from.

So _remember the spell._

You can't be that tired. _  
_

_..._

He spoke it silently, just in his mind. No reason to give them an excuse. The magic pulled away from him as it did its work, and left him feeling empty, lightheaded. His eyes fell shut, but his awareness of the room around him changed.

It was not the same as hearing. It had never been the same as hearing. The impression of being underwater remained. Most of the other... inconvenient... symptoms remained. But this time, when Stark cleared his voice, Loki could, even with his eyes shut, tell where it was coming from.

And that... _that_ was relieving.

Loki opened his eyes again. He felt heavy. No, don't sleep yet. He was still... he was not alone. Not safe. He had to...

Stark was frowning at him; Loki could only just make it out with his foggy vision.

‘Look, Lokes. Thor is… very far away’ Stark said after a while, and the spell told Loki the direction of his voice. Whispered it to him even as every sound was still coming from directly above. A dissonance of knowledge and sensation. Well, Loki was used to it. ‘I just… wanted you to know that. And I have ways to make it considerably harder for him to enter this tower. So he’s not going to be a threat. Well, that’s what I hope anyway. No promises there.’

So don’t count on his help.

Loki nodded.

‘I understand.’

Again, he did.

Counting on Thor’s help was a risky endeavour in any case.

Stark regarded him even more warily now.

‘Another thing… SHIELD wants to talk to you about that Mad Titan business’ he said. ‘Your supposed deal with him, and all that shit? They have some questions. If you’re feeling up to them, that is.’

Ah. So Thor had shared Loki’s confession about the Titan. Again, no real surprises there.

It meant however that the mortals knew about the true extent of his crimes. They knew that far more than just Midgard had been at stake with the invasion. They knew that if Loki had succeeded, he would have been the ruler of nothing but a pile of rubble. He would have doomed them _all_.

‘But if you don’t get violent, no one’s going to hurt you, whatever you say or don’t say – I will make sure of that.’

Loki wanted to laugh at that. Loudly, if he had had the breath. Which was still fleeing him for the moment. Instead, his weak little heart sped up. Questions – he wondered whether he, in his current state, would be able to answer them before the mortals’ patience would run out.

He wondered what would happen if he couldn’t. But then again, he supposed it was not too hard to guess.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony is a manipulative little shit.
> 
> I've added the tag 'amputation' for Loki losing part of his right hand - I had already used the tag 'maiming', but it wasn't understood by everyone, I think.  
> I have one more chapter of Steve POV to give you after this one, but the next batches are already prewritten and will not need that much work anymore (after me having practically completely rewritten them already once, lol). So I don't think you will have to wait a long time this time.  
> In other good news, I'm finally making some progress on the next batch of the Prestige :).

Loki eyed the agents who were crowding his room with something between wariness, veiled fear and disorientation. He looked a bit better today, the fever had gone down, and while his eyes were still glazed, he had remembered that he had agreed to this when Marco had reminded him, which was already something.

Tony hadn’t visited Loki often since his arrival, but he had observed the video feed of the hospital room time and again, having Jarvis record and alert him to anything that might be interesting. He had to keep an eye on his guest after all.

The other Avengers had not bitten his head off for helping their favourite villain survive (a second time), but they hadn’t been exactly happy about it either, and partly, Tony was observing Loki for their sake.

Tony wondered what they complained about. After all, it gave them, and SHIELD, the opportunity to interrogate the god, without Thor’s interference. And it weren’t _they_ who had to deal with the guy. No, until now, they had politely stayed away.

Well, except for Nat who would have permanently moved into Loki’s room if Tony had let her. All out of the best intentions for Loki of course.

Right.

Today, Tony was there in the suit, and Steve was there too, and Nat for good measure, and half a dozen armed guards.

All to protect Phil Coulson who was standing in front of Loki’s bed, smiling mildly as if the little Norse shit hadn’t stabbed him in the back two years ago.

To be fair, Loki didn’t look very intimidating at the moment.

He had teetered on the brink of death for more than a week this time, and regaining consciousness and awareness had been a slow process with a few setbacks.

Fortunately, they had had Fulla – she had reined in his magic when Loki had lashed out in his dreams.

Because apparently, the god was prone to some _pretty_ terrible nightmares… or something like that. Let’s call them nightmares, and not flashbacks. Sure. Tony had looked at enough video footage of Loki’s hospital room by now to recognise something in Loki he usually mostly saw when he was looking in the mirror.

And wasn’t that fun to think about.

Really, this entire arrangement was getting more and more fun the more Tony found out about the trickster and his big occasionally fratricidal cutie of a brother.

But then again, in the Norse myths Tony had read, fratricide was really not that much of a rare occurrence. Nor was it in Greek mythology, or even in the Bible, come to think of it.

One more reason to be glad to have stayed an only child, he supposed.

Now, three weeks after having flat-lined, Loki’s face was still pretty greyish and sweaty, his lips bluish, dark circles around the eyes. His cough had subsided a little after Fulla had helped remove the excess water from his lungs, water that had been accumulating there due to his cardiac damage. During his adventure with Thor, Loki had lost a considerable amount of weight, had been stabbed by an undead warrior, had been beaten up and strangled. The bruises had faded to a faint green and yellow by now but were still visible.

All in all, Loki looked about as critically ill as he was, and not like he was up to much.

Maybe he wasn’t even up to this interrogation, despite him claiming the contrary.

Especially since he looked at Coulson without any recognition.

‘Long time no see’ Coulson said.

Loki didn’t comment on that. His wary eyes wandered over the gathered group, then back to the person who had addressed him.

Then he smiled a little. It looked strained.

‘Phil Coulson’ said he. It sounded just a tiny little bit like he was asking for the confirmation of this assumption. Had he really forgotten what the guy looked like who he had stabbed and who had subsequently blasted him through a wall?

Well, then again, he had killed a lot of people in 2012.

‘The one’ Coulson said. ‘Now, do you feel confident you won’t kill me this time?’

Loki eyed him, then lifted his bandaged hand, the one that was missing the pinkie and the ring finger (as well as missing the part of the palm these two fingers were usually connected to), in a gesture of invitation.

The trickster didn’t use either of his hands much. The left seemed to pain him, and the right he didn’t even acknowledge if it wasn’t necessary.

‘I think I will be able to refrain. Please, sit’ said he. ‘Undoubtedly, this will take a while.’

His hand fell down on the blanket quickly again, and his breathing quickened.

And Tony had not missed how he subtly had turned his head in a way again so to angle his good ear towards his interrogator.

Nope, not up to this, Tony thought, shifting his weight inside the suit, and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Both Fulla and Marco had advised against the interrogation. And Tony hadn’t liked the idea either. But Fury had been insistent, and Loki, as to him, had consented immediately. Almost too hastened in his assent, really.

Well, SHIELD needed information. To be honest, the Avengers needed information too.

… which didn’t keep Tony from having a bad feeling about this, and not in the _oh no, Loki’s gonna murder all of us_ way. Well, he could drink afterwards, couldn’t he? What kind of alcohol did he have that would numb the guilt of exposing their resident critically-ill and heart-damaged patient to another stressful situation?

Maybe he would have to improvise.

Coulson sat down at Loki’s bedside in any case.

‘The questions concern the invasion of New York’ Coulson said.

Loki nodded.

‘I assumed as much’ said he guardedly.

‘Thor said that contrary to what you claimed at the time, you recently admitted you did not act on your own, but that you had an ally’ Coulson made a show of looking into his files. ‘Called by the name of Thanos, I think.’

And Loki _flinched_ , violently.

For a moment, his breathing picked up, his eyes lost their focus.

Then he closed them, closed his mouth, held his breath, then breathed out, deliberately slowly.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a small smile on his lips.

‘Yes’ said he. ‘The Mad Titan. I’d prefer if you used that name, not… not the other one. What do you want to know?’

*

‘He’s not doing well’ Steve said later, a frown on his face.

‘No kidding’ Tony said, swallowing down the scotch.

He had made a beeline for the bar right after they had left Reindeer Games. Because of the whole numbing the guilt matter, first of all. Maybe also because of Loki’s very _telling_ reaction to the real name of that Thanos bastard. Maybe because Loki had drifted off at the end. Had been less and less able to concentrate on the questions but had repeated that he wanted to answer, he really wanted to answer, they should just give him time, just a little more time, he promised he would be useful, he could be useful, he promised. He had started shaking, seemingly without being aware of it.

Marco and Fulla had thrown them out in the end.

All in all, the situation had re-awakened the bad kind of old memories ( _I’ll build it for you, I’ll do it, I promise_ ), in addition to the other bad kind of old memories watching Thor and Loki interact had re-awakened. It fit with Loki’s night terrors, and Loki’s general body language, and the ever-present fear that the god was hiding so carefully and that Tony could see beneath the mask nonetheless.

It seemed everything about Loki was a Tony-trigger lately, and Tony had a few very well tested coping mechanisms for triggers the former of which all involved alcohol.

He didn’t want to deal with this.

No, he _really_ didn’t want to deal with this.

But Thor had just _shoved_ his brother on Tony, _again_ , and now he was sitting there with a sick god and SHIELD wanting to use the occasion to their advantage as much as they could, having no scruples about harming said god in the process, and Thor having said again that he finally wanted to visit his brother, and fuck, that was a terrible idea, and Tony didn’t know who to talk to about his suspicions, if those really still counted as _suspicions_ considering the massive heap of evidence Tony was looking at by now. But he didn’t know whether he could trust Fulla, and he really, _really_ didn’t want to talk about this to Dr Marco, and Pepper was angry with him again, he certainly didn’t want to pester _her_ about this, especially since she was angry with him for putting his own life at risk by letting the architect of the New York invasion be treated in his own home.

The fuck, those were all excuses. Truth was, he wanted to talk to _no one_ about this. Putting it into words would mean…

He knew he still had to say something. Soon.

He poured himself more scotch and wondered how to trick himself.

‘Think two cardiac arrests within a month’ he said to Steve. ‘But worse, because one cardiac arrest was caused by a supernatural bolt of lightning and the other caused by the Tesseract.’

Fulla had eventually put a magical stop to Tony’s listening in on private conversations in the medical facilities, but there were quite a few bits of information he had gleaned before that, and none of those had been very pretty.

Overtaxing yourself with a spell was, apparently, not health-inducing. To put it _very_ mildly.

He drank.

Steve took another swig of his beer.

‘I suppose so’ said he, his frown deepening. ‘It’s just that… Loki looked _fine_ the last time he left, after that first cardiac arrest, and he had had a lot less time to heal then. That’s why I assumed he’d be back on his feet by now.’

‘Loki is a liar’ Tony said easily, swirling the scotch in his tumbler. And had the captain really not seen through that façade?

‘Loki looked fine _from one moment to the other_ the last time’ said he. ‘I still can’t believe Thor actually bought that story. And that later, when they were fighting, he didn’t notice that Loki was still injured, or fighting while suffering from cardiac damage, and while being half-deaf. Apparently, he didn’t even notice that Loki was running around with a badly treated stab wound afterwards. And I mean, I’m sure the guy can hide it like a champion, but… seriously?’

‘Loki’s deaf?’ Steve asked.

‘On one ear, yes, from what Dr Marco can tell’ Tony said and shrugged. ‘The thunder burst the ear drum. The same injury also causes disturbances of equilibrium – Loki can compensate it well, but there was definitely a slight instability to his walk when he left the last time.’

Steve grimaced in sympathy.

‘Yes, that adds up’ said he. ‘And that hasn’t healed yet?’

‘Nope.’

Steve shook his head.

‘I thought that these people had super regeneration powers’ he said. ‘Like me, only stronger.’

Tony shrugged again.

‘The way Thor tells it, they do’ said he. ‘Especially Loki. Except our scanners tell a different story. He’s tenacious as fuck for having survived a fucking battle in the state he was in, I’ll give him that, but he’s still got pretty bad heart damage, is feverish, has burns and nerve damage, internal tissue damage, and water in his lungs. There is evidence of him having at least partly lost the sensation of touch in his left arm, and there is an infection spreading in his left arm too. Way I see it, what we saw last time was just an illusion. Smoke and mirrors. Makes me wonder how often in the past what Thor describes as fast healing has just been Loki putting on some magical make up to cover up the bruises.’

Steve flinched.

‘Tony’ said he. ‘You are aware of what you make this sound like, aren’t you?’

‘Oh?’ asked Tony innocently. ‘What does this sound like then?’

‘Like domestic violence’ Steve said tensely.

Tony emptied his second tumbler of scotch.

‘You said it, not me’ said he under his breath.

There was a pause. It was awkward.

‘Tony, are you in all seriousness suggesting that Loki, the leader of the New York invasion, is also an abuse victim, and Thor the perpetrator, and we’re only finding out now?’

No shit, Sherlock.

And no, I don’t like this an inch more than you do.

‘Me?’ said Tony, putting a hand on his arc reactor in mock offence. ‘I’m not suggesting anything. Would _never_. It’s not my fault you read so much into all these strange old scars and injuries that Marco and Fulla have found, treating the Lokes, and that they can’t explain. Loki just brushed them off as battle wounds, so I’m sure everything is _fine_.’

‘They found _what_?’ Steve said, his eyes widening.

‘Healed fractures, joint strains, signs of healed organ damage, cuts, burns and other weird scars that are congruent with torture and/or abuse. And wait, Bruce actually _watched_ Thor beat up his little brother and strangle him during their little space adventure. And according to the Brucie Bear, neither of those two gods even treated that incident like it was a _big deal_ , which is surely just a… just a _great_ sign. Strangulation is just another fun family day in the house of Odin, right? Oh, and it seems that the whole striking Loki with lightning business and practically killing him in the process?’ Tony refilled his tumbler a third time. ‘It’s not exactly the first time _that_ happened either.’

The chair scraped back as Steve stood up.

‘Tony… _what_?’ asked he again.

‘There is an old scar at Loki’s shoulder’ Tony said, and drank, ‘that shouts lightning very loudly. An equally old scar on the sole of his right foot that shouts exit wound. Has about the same shape as the new exit wound on his left wrist. And Fulla’s found an entry in Loki’s medical history, now that I have finally decrypted that. There was an accident, when they were children. Loki almost died then too, so Thor must at least subconsciously have known what he was doing when he struck Loki the second time around. Now Loki is lying in my medical facilities with bruises in the shape of fingers on his throat, and apparently regularly has nightmares in which Thor is trying to kill him. And maybe it’s just me, but supervillain or not, I sort of don’t quite _like_ the picture all that paints.’

Steve stared at him.

‘Holy Mary mother of Christ’ said he then.

Tony bit back the comment that, since they were dealing with deities of another religion, Mary probably hadn’t been involved. After all, he had _jesused_ Thor himself, he supposed, so he couldn’t really talk.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's it - a short Steve POV chapter to round up this batch, and I'm in hiatus again.  
> I love y'all and please take care and be kind to yourself! <3

When Steve came to Loki’s room, he lingered outside a little, looking in. They had given Loki one of those rooms with one-way mirrors to the corridor, probably in order to monitor him more easily.

Steve did get why they had done that, and the part of him that had fought Loki in 2012 was relieved about it too. That didn’t mean that he _liked_ it. Privacy was a rare enough thing in hospitals, and the ever-present cameras in the tower didn’t help matters.

That didn’t keep him from watching though.

Loki was lying on the bed, and looking in the direction of the open window on the other side of the room. The angle of the bed to the window made Steve doubt that the alien actually could see outside very well.

And his gaze was unfocused in any case.

His face sweaty, his skin-colour greyish.

The way his chest was moving, breathing seemed to cause him effort.

_Way I see it, what we saw last time was just an illusion. Smoke and mirrors._

Probably, it had been, yes. The bruises certainly had a tendency to linger this time. And there was a certain tension to Loki’s face that spoke of pain, and of the effort to hide it.

Steve knew only too well about _that_.

The interrogation the other day… had been strange. Loki had looked small at some moments, and lost, and there had been this air of wary fear around him… well, he did have good reasons to fear them (his enemies, as far as he knew) in the vulnerable state he was in.

Steve lightly knocked on the door, then let himself in.

Loki’s eyes went to him immediately, but like during the interrogation, the trickster didn’t look like he actually recognised Steve. He also didn’t look like he expected anything good from his visitor.

‘Captain America bringing you flowers’ Steve said, stating his title to help the trickster along, and held up the bunch.

Loki frowned.

He kept frowning at the bouquet after Steve had put it in a vase and had sat down at Loki’s bedside.

‘I must admit I am not aware of the meaning of this… gesture’ said he then.

Right… and why should he be? He was from outer space after all.

‘It’s something you bring sick people’ Steve said. ‘To say that you wish them to get better soon.’

‘Ahah’ Loki said, raising an eyebrow, then eyeing Steve, the distrust in his eyes plain.

And then, for some reason, his face and posture relaxed just a bit.

He smiled, in a small, almost shy way.

‘Well, then, my good captain’ said he. ‘What brings you here today? What can Loki God of Mischief offer?’

*

Later, back in the rooms Tony had assigned him in the tower, Steve checked his phone, vaguely hoping that Bucky might have written him or called him by now, but unsurprised that he hadn’t.

He slumped down on his bed, and sighed.

Bucky was better these days, or so Shrui claimed. He helped out a lot in the village he was living in. In his spare time, he explored the country on foot.

And no, he still didn’t want to talk to Steve.

Steve had sent him letters. Then messages with his StarkPhone. And because Bucky hadn’t answered, Steve had gone and bothered Shrui instead. Stupid.

He was so stupid.

The memory of Bucky’s lips on his. The memory of his stubble, of those arms cradling his own pathetic, little body.

He had felt so precious in these arms.

And this was _over_.

Like the rest, like this whole era, it was over. Done with.

That Bucky was _gone_.

The person who was here now had been a brainwashed warrior slave for decades. The person who was here now was only slowly rediscovering their own free will, their identity, whatever that was now. Steve, with his clinging to the past, wasn’t helping.

Stupid.

Steve grabbed a pillow, rolled to the side, hugged it.

Thought of Loki, who had been clearly bewildered at the fact that Steve hadn’t come to interrogate him, or to ask for anything else. Had looked at Steve with incomprehension when he proposed to read to the trickster.

Had still acquiesced and listened silently.

Loki had fallen asleep only after a few minutes, his mouth open, even at rest looking like breathing exhausted him.

His right arm drawn up as if to hug himself. His curly hair sticking to his sweaty neck.

Steve had asked Dr Marco about Loki’s recovery when she had checked in then, but the doctor had referred to patient confidentiality, her face inscrutable.

For a moment, Steve had wanted to bring up Tony’s suspicions, but the idea of Loki being a victim of abuse had suddenly felt so unreal – Loki claimed to be a _god_ , there were _legends_ about that guy – that he had left without saying anything further in the end.

Now, lying on his side on his bed, Steve thought: Well, yes, there are legends. But there are legends about me too. That never made anything easier for me.

Would Tony be angry if he stayed in the tower a bit longer? Just for a few days. It wasn’t like anyone else paid Loki any visits.

And he knew how lonely a sickbed could be.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back :)  
> And this is the actual chapter 19 ;), I promise.  
> And I've got good news - not only do I have 4 chapters for you, because Entropy by Ophelia is awesome, they beta'd the next batch too, so there won't be a very long hiatus after this one.  
> And once more, I solemnly swear that this chapter is the only one with Thor POV in this batch ;).
> 
> Also, just FYI - the Thanos plot is going to play a minor role in this particular fic, and I will not put that much effort into that plot line. This time, he's more like the convenient villain ex machina that I pull out when I feel like it. So while we're watching the horrors of this Thor + Loki relationship unfold, let's just assume that the Avengers make preparations off-screen to protect the stone and find the others etc.

‘Fury wants to see your face at SHIELD headquarters next week,’ the Man of Iron said. He was munching pizza while making the video call, and there were dark smudges on his face. Apparently, he had called Thor during a break of crafting new weapons. ‘He wants to discuss what to do with the Tesseract. Wants it for SHIELD of course. I wouldn’t just give it to them though. They’re shady.’

He took a bite off his slice.

‘So I say, we make an Avengers meeting before you go to Fury, and think solutions,’ he continued while chewing. ‘Obviously, I have a few ideas.’

Thor nodded.

He had retired to his chambers on the Statesman for this call, but the first building of their new settlement would be finished today – their hall for the _Thing_. They would celebrate it by eating there and Thor would make speeches and hear praises, and all that was supposed to be a _good_ thing, he knew.

He was still dreading it.

He dreaded standing there and being reminded by the small number of those around him of how many were missing.

‘I agree. But pray tell me – how is Loki?’

Something changed in Anthony Stark’s expression. Maybe because Thor had posed the question often enough in the last weeks. Or maybe because Anthony still didn’t like looking him in the eyes while talking about his brother.

‘Yeah… right,’ said he. ‘Still stable. Awake-ish, sometimes, but most of the time not very lucid. I’ve finally decrypted those medical files on him, so that’s a win. Fulla is very happy about it in any case – she said his medical records would help a lot with his treatment.’

‘I’m glad.’

And he was.

Eir, Loki’s personal healer, had fallen during the first wave of Hela’s invasion, as had most of those residing in the palace at the time. Fulla herself had just barely escaped, but she had managed to grab the data discs on the way out – which were their only source of information right now on how to heal a Jotnar.

They had been encrypted – probably to keep the information about Loki’s true nature private – but Anthony had accepted the mission to decrypt them all too eagerly.

Anthony reminded Thor very closely of the dwarves sometimes – it was not always all too clear whether he did something for you to be helpful, or just to see if he could.

‘I’ll visit him when I come to New York then,’ Thor said.

Anthony… grimaced.

‘Yeah,’ said he. ‘Though maybe… rather not? Like I said, he’s not lucid exactly. He was talking to a potted plant the other day. He had an argument with it, only a very tired and… slurry one. He’s… not exactly at his best.’

‘Aye, you said,’ Thor said. ‘But I haven’t seen him in too long, and he was so very sick… I just want to be there, see him with my own eyes, make sure…’

Put his hand on Loki’s chest, hear his heart beating.

Anthony Stark scratched his head.

‘I get it,’ said he. ‘But… it’s still maybe not that much of a good idea? He’s… easily spooked. And Fulla and Marco say he should avoid stress, so…’

So he shouldn’t see you.

Thor closed his eyes. Thought of that moment when Loki’s hands had searched for purchase on the ground, only to push himself _away_ from him.

‘Man of Iron,’ said he and rubbed his eyes. ‘I have been very patient. But I don’t think you understand. During the last true conversation I had with Loki before he opened the portal, I accused him of abusing his status as prince to get more food and other amenities on the Statesman.’

‘Yeah, I can see how that sucks as a last conversation before near-death,’ Anthony said after a pause.

‘Especially since in retrospect, it has become very clear to me that with all these tricks, Loki had simply been conserving his energy and building up his strength for the spell,’ Thor said.

It was obvious, really, in hindsight. Thor wondered why he hadn’t seen it.

Why Loki hadn’t just _said so_.

‘… right,’ Anthony Stark said. ‘The spell that still mostly killed him. So… that sucks big time.’

‘You can imagine that this is not how I want to leave things.’

There were other questions he wanted to pose Loki of course. Why he had hidden the wounds he had apparently received in the battle against Hela’s forces, the bruises that Thor and the Hulk had given him. Why he had hidden the burns from the lightning that apparently still hadn’t healed.

Why he had thought that it was alright to just abandon Thor like that, without any good-bye, leaving him with nothing but a pair of daggers and a wooden pendant to remember him by.

Why he abandoned Thor _again and again and again_.

‘But it doesn’t change that Loki’ll probably freak out if he sees you right now,’ Anthony Stark said and shrugged.

Because you know him that well, Thor thought bitterly. Because for some reason, you think you have the right to decide whether I may see my own kin or not.

But they both knew he needed Anthony Stark. And so behave was what Thor had to do.

He supposed.

*

After ending the call with Thor, Tony leant back in his chair, scratched his beard.

He pushed the rest of the pizza away from him, rubbed his eyes.

_You can imagine that this is not how I want to leave things._

Well, yes, Thor, I can _imagine_ that. You accused your brother of being selfish when really he was preparing to sacrifice himself for you and the rest of you ass-guardians, and that after you killed him, brought him back, and not even a week later apparently first watched the Hulk beat him to a pulp without doing anything, and then beat him to a pulp yourself. Who the _fuck_ would want to leave it at _that_?

And Thor had looked so genuinely wretched beneath the thin pretence of calm. He had looked sad and scared and _ashamed_.

Which… hadn’t helped, all in all.

It had made Tony nauseous instead, and he had still kept eating that slice of pizza like an idiot, despite the growing nausea, and had listened to his own heart pounding.

He was listening to his heart pounding now. He hated this. He hated this. He didn’t even know exactly _why_ he hated Thor’s evident guilt and shame even more than the guy’s aggression, didn’t know…

He leant forward, swept the pizza from the table just to see it fall to the floor, smear that with fat. Felt the urge to break something.

He pressed his eyes shut.

Stop this train of thought – focus on what needs to be done next.

_I have been very patient._

Which essentially meant that Thor wasn’t going to stay patient much longer.

Which meant that if not obliged, Thor would make trouble.

Did they have the resources to deal with Thor-shaped trouble?

Tony tapped on the table with his fingers.

_Thor is stronger than me when I’m at my best. Know your place, mortal – it is not to meddle in the fights of gods._

Maybe not, no.

Then he thought of the patient lying in his medical facilities, who was still too weak to walk, still very much disoriented half of the time, with all those very visible bruises, and imagined enabling Thor to visit that patient, in person. Imagined forcing Loki to be in the same room with the person who...

And no, Tony was aware that despite all the eavesdropping, he still didn’t know the entire list of the trauma and medical issues Loki had arrived with. But for the frigging love of all the gods, Asgardian or not, what he _did_ know…

No, not a constructive thought. Not a constructive thought. Thor was _not_ Howard, Loki was _not_ a ten-year old Tony. It was still different.

It _was_.

Hah.

Right.

That’s why you unsubtly pushed Steve’s nose right into this mess, because it’s _different_.

Sure, buddy. Sure.

The entire reason you even consider allowing Thor to visit Loki is that you are afraid of the guy. Because you’ve seen what he can and will do in his anger.

…

He had so not asked for getting involved in this.

He couldn’t deal with it. He had manipulated Steve into caring for Loki because _he couldn’t fucking deal with it_.

Why again was he not stepping away?


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Physical meeting averted... for now.  
> And Tony might be a little bit triggered. And his mental health might worsen. But just a tiny little bit.

In the end, they compromised on a video call in one of the tower’s meeting rooms. Thor’s big face was currently towering over them on the projection against the wall because the guy had called them from his StarkPhone, so face time it was. Tony would have to send New Asgard an actual video conference system as soon as possible, if only to shrink Thor’s face to a (more) bearable size.

Steve and Loki were sitting with Tony at the table, and Loki was… behaving as had to be expected, Tony supposed.

The god could still barely stand without help, and while he had reluctantly agreed on Steve helping him into a wheelchair and pushing him to the meeting room in that, he had shoved said wheelchair out of the range of the camera as soon as he had moved to one of the meeting chairs instead. He had been shivering when he had sat down, his skin dripping with sweat, his eyes glassy.

Not up for this.

And then, a moment later, a glow had washed over his body, and had swept it all away. Or, most of it. Loki had ignored the eyebrow Tony had raised at him.

Now, with Thor looking down at them, his face so over-sized Tony could count his fucking nose hairs, Loki was looking not healthy exactly, pale and too thin and with dark smudges under his eyes, but he was looking far healthier than he actually was, the fucking moron. Hiding his mangled right hand under the table where Thor couldn’t see it.

And the glamour pissed Tony off even more for being so much more believable this time, and Tony would bet his fucking arc reactor on that this was deliberate, because their resident little shit knew exactly that even Thor could be fooled only so much.

As it was, Thor’s gaze swept over Loki with something between relief and suspicion, and his smile was hesitant.

‘I am glad beyond measure to see that you are better, Loki,’ said he. ‘Of course the Man of Iron has reassured me that you’ve been recovering, but to see it with my own eyes… it’s a great weight off my chest.’

And he sounded it.

Loki, as to him, let out a small laugh that didn’t sound very genuine.

‘Funny – I thought the same thing,’ he said, and his voice light.

Thor frowned, confused.

‘Why? When?’ asked he.

‘When I was lying on the Bifrost,’ Loki elaborated, and cocked his head. ‘The moment you finally called Mjolnir back to you. That was a great weight off my chest indeed.’

Tony was not entirely sure what the god was getting at there. If this was him trying to amuse Thor, he had miscalculated severely. Thor stared at his brother for another moment, then his face darkened.

‘That day is nothing to jest about,’ growled Thor.

‘Isn’t it?’ Loki asked, undeterred. ‘I found it a fine joke in the end.’

Thor said nothing for a moment, just looking at his brother, and Loki’s smile faltered. He was the one to finally cast down his eyes, fleeing Thor’s.

‘But maybe not,’ Loki said.

Another pause.

‘Guess you had to be there,’ Tony commented. He wondered what memory they were reliving – probably more of Thor beating up Loki. Certainly sounded like it.

‘Tony,’ Steve hissed, and Tony shrugged. The gods were ignoring them in any case. Why again had he agreed to this? No matter, he could always drink later.

‘Loki, I…,’ Thor began, his voice suddenly sorrowful, but he didn’t continue.

This time, it was he who looked away. He closed his one remaining eye, and a tear ran down his cheek.

But when he turned back to the camera, he sported a cautious smile.

‘So is it true, brother, that you had an argument with a potted plant the other day?’ he asked, and chuckled.

Ah, shit. So Tony supposed he should have expected Thor to mention that.

And Loki blinked, and then his eyes went immediately to Tony’s.

Yeah, man, so I lied. Sort of.

Loki hadn’t argued with that plant in a while, but they had been there.

He shrugged.

‘Sorry, Rudolph,’ said he. ‘You know I tend to ramble and that just slipped out.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’ asked Loki, narrowing his eyes. Going with the lie then.

‘So was your conversation with the plant more or less dull than arguing with the old council has been?’ Thor asked, and Loki simply stared at him for a moment, then broke into a small, surprised laugh. If it sounded shaky, this time, it didn’t sound false exactly.

And Thor _reacted_ to that smile, his own face brightening up too.

Awww, the abuser _cares_.

Tony might be a billionaire, but he had the vague feeling he was not getting paid enough for this.

‘Since I was apparently talking to myself,’ Loki said dryly, ‘how could the old council ever compete?’

The grin he gave Thor was shark-like and, in Tony’s eyes, far too charming in the fucking dangerous way.

Thor, as to him, simply grinned back.

‘How indeed, Silvertongue?’ said he. ‘How indeed?’

*

The video call could have gone worse, Tony told himself at the end of that day. It most certainly could have gone worse. The brothers had exchanged some more banter, and Thor had enquired more or less subtly about Loki’s health a few more times. Loki had deflected those questions, and if they had never caught him in an outright lie, he had heavily implied that he was recovering a lot more quickly than was actually the case. More troubling was that he had also implied that he was going to leave for New Asgard soon.

Tony briefly wondered, tinkering with his machines and thinking the conversation over, whether it helped that Thor had seemed genuinely gladdened by that, then cut that thought off immediately.

As soon as the call had ended, Loki had let the glamour go in any case, and beneath it he had looked dead tired. He had looked down blankly at the meeting room table, all amusement gone, his chest heaving with his rattling breaths. He hadn’t mentioned his plans to leave for Norway again. He had said nothing in fact. Steve had taken most of his weight when he had helped the god back into the wheelchair, and Loki hadn’t protested.

If Tony locked Thor up somewhere and threw away the key, damn the consequences, would Nat be terribly angry?

Tony rubbed his eyes. His right hand was tingling, his chest was getting tighter.

Great, anxiety welling up.

*

For a few days, Tony chose to simply hide away, for his own sake. He had eventually voiced his suspicions about the abuse to Dr Marco, and she had not in the least been surprised. And she had agreed. But she had also not given him any new information, referring to patient confidentiality again. For an hour or so, Tony considered accessing those diagnostic scans Dr Marco had never allowed him to see (or rather that she had protected better against unauthorized access than the rest), then discarded the idea. What did he have to gain really from learning more about the trauma? It would just trigger him again and he was already drinking more than enough. He did notice absently that Steve was worried because Loki had been growing quieter ever since the call, was sleeping more, was eating less.

But Tony didn’t want to think about that either. He was not a fucking shrink. He was not even…

People were _Nat’s_ job, not his, and this was part of the reason he eventually let her move back into the tower then, after making her promise she wouldn’t kill the trickster in his sleep or Guantanamo Bay him or something. Maybe her and Steve could team up and do… whatever. He didn’t know. Tony was trying _not_ to think about their resident patient, and he was trying _not_ to think about the anniversary of his mum’s birthday that was coming up.

He wasn’t very successful at either.

_Maybe if you weren’t such a disappointment-_

Booze helped, as always. As did avoiding sleep. And avoiding Pepper’s reproaches that he was being self-destructive again.

She confronted him once when he was testing a newly-designed gauntlet in the middle of the night and he almost shot her in the argument that followed because he was too fucking drunk to operate the thing.

_Like father, like son._

Like the spoilt, worthless screw-up he was.

He didn’t bother apologising to her. Instead, he hoped that she would get the memo and finally stay away for good. Never say that you’re sorry. They always say that they’re sorry. It doesn’t mean a fucking thing.

The next day, when he puked into the toilet, he wasn’t sure whether the nausea was only from the hangover. Howard’s heavy hand.

_I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again, I swear. I’m so sorry!_

_Maybe if you weren’t such a disappointment-_

In the end, it had always been Tony’s fault. For being too loud, for being too clumsy, too slow on the uptake, too… whatever.

He leant his forehead against the cool toilet seat and wondered whether if he puked long enough, he could expel his whole existence and flush it down the toilet where it belonged.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a personal trigger flavour for each Avenger - he's considerate like that.

Things didn’t add up. Natasha did _not_ like when things didn’t add up.

And with Loki, things added up less and less the more she learned.

Of course, she had already known that the second prince of Asgard had for a long time been at the bottom of the royal family hierarchy. The culture both gods had been raised in definitely had a problematic approach to aggression and to conflict resolution, and both princes had, for their age, amazingly underdeveloped social and emotional skills. She had already known, in a way, that the sibling dynamic between Loki and Thor was pretty violent. How could it not be, if it ended in worlds being invaded out of spite?

Still, the behavioural patterns she had been watching lately…

And not everything even fit the picture. There were the survival skills Loki employed when dealing with his brother, and then there was him repetitively saying at the end of the interrogation with Phil that he could be useful, he promised that he could be useful. His body language then.

In combination with the video footage of Loki’s fever dreams she had managed to bully Tony into giving her, that spoke a rather clear language.

But not quite the same language as the violence between him and Thor spoke.

So there might have been several perpetrators. And not only domestic abuse but other kinds of violence too. What she had learnt about his pre-existing injuries corroborated that theory.

Which complicated matters.

And that wasn’t even what bothered her the most. What bothered her the most was naturally what Loki was trying to hide. And he was trying hard, but the fever and the exhaustion made his masks thin, brittle, even though his sickness was, in a way, a mask of its own.

After all, much of his confusion could be blamed on that. Being struck by lightning could cause amnesia after all. So could several minutes of cardiac arrest, at least in humans. And for a while after having flat-lined that second time, Loki had definitely been very confused about a lot of things, including but not limited to his personal history.

But no. Something told her that what was bothering her was something else. She couldn’t pinpoint it yet but Loki’s tale about the invasion was brushing over inconsistencies in a slightly different way than Loki’s tale about the battle against Hela. No, something about this was _foul_.

At the beginning, and even after regaining most of his lucidity, Loki had looked at people as if trying to hide that he had no idea who they were. When she had met Loki after his arrival, he had observed her as if he genuinely saw her for the first time in his life. He also hadn’t recognised Jarvis. Had not at all been sure that the person standing in front of his bed had been indeed the Phil Coulson they had told him would come to interrogate him.

She went through the entire footage of post-invasion Loki at the tower that Tony had granted her access to. She watched the footage of the interrogation with Phil several times, and listened to Loki closely. What did he really say about the invasion? Did he describe details? He said quite a few things about this Thanos and his plans, but did he describe him, the place where he lived? No, he was being very abstract about it all, wasn’t he? And about his time in New York – did he say anything about those days that they didn’t know already, that he couldn’t have heard from another?

She watched his facial expression.

Despite the glazed eyes, the fever, Loki was watching Phil closely, she found. Observing the reaction to what he was saying. The reactions of others in the room. Adjusting his answers to that. He took up whatever information he could glean immediately and weaved it into his story. When Phil said for example, ‘Well, I got you back for that. And I was right, wasn’t I? You lacked conviction,’ Loki smiled, said, ‘An old fault. I was a little impressed that you managed to touch me though.’

And he left it open, didn’t he, what kind of touch he meant?

‘I used a pretty big gun,’ Phil said to that, and five minutes after, Natasha heard Loki refer to Phil’s gun casually. She checked whether Loki had ever mentioned it before Phil had.

But no. He hadn’t.

He also didn’t go into detail about Stuttgart until Tony made a remark about the eyeball scanner, and Loki mentioned that device several times afterwards. Never before Tony’s comment though.

The way it looked, they hadn’t been interrogating him. Or, not really. He had told them what he had wanted them to know. What was important for _his_ plan – namely to kill this Thanos, whoever that really was.

But for the most time, it looked like _he_ had been interrogating _them_. Gleaning information about the invasion. About his _own_ actions during it.

Now why would he need their help for that when he had been there after all, especially for the parts where he was seemingly relying the most on them for information?

This smelled.

And Nat did _not_ like it.

She put her tablet away and found herself troubled. That alone would not have surprised her. She had, after all, just found out that the level-eight threat currently living in the Avengers tower had been lying through his teeth to them (which, given the god’s reputation, was not that much of a surprise). That they might have to reconsider Loki’s role in the 2012 incident completely, and that they would also have to reconsider his role and motivations now. That they could rely on Loki’s word even less than they had thought. All that _was_ very troubling and yet there was something else. Because she wasn’t an idiot. There were enough leads to make connections. To form theories, rank them by probability. It was her _job_ to read people. Considering what she was reading in Loki and how this fit with everything else she knew by now… also about Clint’s recovery from the sceptre’s influence… the strength of the emotion did surprise her, if only a little. After all, she had been going to therapy for years precisely in order to get into contact with her feelings more. In order to unlearn her training.

Learning that she apparently felt rather unprofessional anger on behalf of a level eight threat was simply part of that process, she supposed.

It wasn’t even that mysterious to her _why_ she felt that anger, that sadness, or at least not as soon as she took that quiet moment in her apartment to shut off the spy part of herself and actually listen to her own thoughts.

Another tool, used and discarded. Why did they find out, again and again, that the threats they were fighting were just abused pawns, hurt and manipulated?

Like James Barnes.

Like her.

There were so many ways to disable a person, physically, mentally _or_ emotionally. She, Barnes and Loki – all just deformed, broken tools.

No, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Not yet. This was a hunch, nothing else.

Natasha breathed out, let the spy take over again, and considered her anger as exactly that. A hunch about Loki. A subconscious recognition of patterns. Maybe she was only projecting. Or maybe this was Loki playing her like a fiddle.

But maybe not.

*

‘Should I be worried or flattered that you are bringing me my lunch today, Lady Romanoff,’ Loki said as Nat came in with his food tray that she deposited on the night table.

‘You should eat,’ Natasha said and sat down in the chair at his bedside. ‘That’s all.’

Loki hummed. She knew he hadn’t been eating much – Steve was talking about it often enough. Taciturn, apathetic, loss of appetite, increased need to sleep. Nightmares. Indicators of PTSD and depression.

And the left arm seemed to pain him more than the last time she had seen him. He was holding it stiffly.

‘You have moved back into the tower,’ Loki said. ‘Stark was not happy, I wager. What did you bribe him with?’

So their guest had already understood the fault lines in their team, and was using them to his advantage. She would have expected nothing less.

‘That is no concern of yours,’ said she.

No, Tony had not been happy, and he had had a lot of conditions before giving her back the keys to her apartment.

But it had helped that he wasn’t mentally doing well either at the moment – considering the inventor’s personal history, Natasha wasn’t surprised. Too many triggers.

‘Another interrogation then,’ Loki said, his eyes going over her. ‘What does the Black Widow want to know now?’

What do _you_ want to know this time, Loki?

‘During the fight in New York,’ Romanoff said, going straight to the heart of the matter, just like Loki would expect her to. ‘Clint shot you, and for a moment I thought you might catch the arrow because you were so fucking fast. But then you didn’t. Though it didn’t do much damage, the arrow hit its mark. You were the fraction of a second too late, not more. So what slowed you down?’

Loki looked at her closely, then laughed a little.

‘Oh, my – don’t say you were disappointed by my performance?’ he asked.

She hummed, trying to make out in his eyes whether he really believed her lie, or whether he was just going with it. Even in his current weakened state, it was astonishingly difficult to say.

‘Not then,’ she eventually said. ‘But you claim that you’re on our side now. If that’s true, that changes matters.’

‘Does it though?’ Loki asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Or maybe I just want to know your weaknesses in case you turn on us,’ Natasha said soberly. ‘So will you tell me?’

She cocked her head, carefully keeping her face blank.

He looked at her, and she saw in his eyes that he recognised what she was doing. Or rather, he recognised the manipulation she was pretending to. The lure for his self-destructive tendencies, for his urge to prove his fearlessness.

You know and I know that I am trying to get information out of you, so I’m asking you directly, I challenge you to reveal your weaknesses because your pride forbids you to consider me a threat anyway. And that I will use against you.

And his lips twitched as if wanting to smile.

Thinking, once more, that he had found her out.

Others would not have. Others would not even have been able to understand those outer layers of the game.

‘He’s a good archer, your Hawkeye, isn’t he?’ asked he. ‘If he wasn’t good enough to outdo even me, why would I even bother enthralling him?’

Answering by not answering. Referring to Hawkeye’s skill was revealing nothing, and, more importantly, Loki didn’t risk saying something that Natasha could easily disprove.

‘So should I feel flattered that you enthralled me too?’ asked she.

That at last seemed to throw him, just a little. For a moment, he looked just a little uncertain. Surprised. Did he suspect after all what she was really after?

‘You should if you still needed the flattery,’ said he then and grinned quite charmingly. ‘Which of course you don’t. How again did I lose with you as my thrall?’

Suspicion? Trying to find her out? Or maybe he was trying to find his way around contradictory information, not knowing which was the lie, which the truth. Had anybody ever explicitly told Loki that Clint was the only Avenger he had managed to turn?

‘Because you lost me,’ Natasha said easily and smiled.

This time, there was no hesitation, no slip in the act.

‘Indeed,’ Loki said and bowed his head to her. ‘As I should have known I would. One can catch the little spider, but who can hold her? No one knows.’

Natasha’s smile fell as soon as she had left Loki’s room. She had ‘thanked him for his cooperation’ at the end of their talk and he hadn’t reacted to it. She had talked about ‘a child at prayer’ and he had looked, very briefly, confused, as if recognising the phrasing without remembering where from, and then had blanked his face again. She had even mentioned the fucking red ledger, and he hadn’t batted an eyelid. She wondered whether he was, at the moment, really _that_ good of an actor.

Whether she should still consider the possibility that Loki had seen through all the layers of her game and had played her without her recognising it.

Loki had surrendered more details about his time on _Sakaar_ than about his time on Midgard, and he had been rather reluctant to speak of that trash planet and had definitely lied about parts of it. And still, even that story had felt a lot more real, a lot less derived from second hand knowledge.

This was foul.

This was so foul, it could be the New York sewer.

And she found both the spy part of her and the very _unprofessional_ rest of her liked the smell less and less.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some soft Steve being soft...  
> ...and then watch things going to shit and running straight into what is not at all a terrible cliff-hanger because I would never be that evil, or something.  
> Last chapter for now – but like I said, you won’t have to wait for the next batch very long.
> 
> Also here's a soundtrack for the Thor POV – if you feel like listening to Thor feeling sorry for himself, lol. But seriously, I think it’s a good Thor POV song for his current situation in Norway:  
> [First Aid Kit - Winter is All Over You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w-RmnON5XVI)
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments! I really love them! <3

‘Mhm,’ Loki said when the scene came where the glass unicorn fell and the horn broke, and Steve stopped reading, looking up from the book.

‘Something the matter?’

There was a small crease between Loki’s eyebrows. He was looking at the blanket.

Steve had proposed reading _The Glass Menagerie_ by Tennessee Williams to him without really expecting Loki to say yes, or to say anything for that matter.

But Loki, instead of turning his back to Steve or not reacting at all, like he had done so often in the last days, had nodded.

And had quietly listened to Steve’s voice.

Until a moment ago, that was.

‘Nothing,’ said Loki then. ‘Continue.’

And so Steve did.

Loki didn’t seem surprised by the ending, and when Steve asked if he had liked it, he didn’t answer.

They sat in silence for a while, until Steve wondered if he had outstayed his welcome.

But a nurse came in then with the dinner tray. Loki accepted it and then stared at it without much enthusiasm.

‘You should eat,’ Steve said. ‘To get your strength back.’

Loki found that funny for some reason.

‘Personally, rather than discussing my nutrition, I think we should talk about how to save the universe from the Mad Titan,’ said Loki then and picked at his pasta. ‘Do the Avengers have no questions left concerning that?’

Oh, too many of them.

‘You’ve already given us a lot of useful information,’ Steve said nevertheless. ‘We are going to have a meeting with SHIELD to strategize further and Nat mentioned that she’d want you to be there and give us more input on the stones, but honestly, I think you should concentrate on recovering instead.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Loki said, rolling up some spaghetti on his fork.

The gauze had disappeared from his right hand that had only thumb, index and middle finger left. Loki had also lost the part of the palm where the metacarpal bones connected the fingers to the wrist, but what was left of his hand somehow retained its stability. It looked very strange of course, the limb much too small, and looking as if connected askance to the arm, two parts that didn’t fit together. Considering all that, Loki was astonishingly dexterous with it. But the impairment was still pretty noticeable.

According to Fulla, the maiming was a magical injury – the Tesseract had begun consuming his body, starting with his hand. And that seemed to be the main reason this part of Loki would never grow back even if they had the medical equipment on Asgard at their disposal.

Regrowth of limbs, Steve thought. The idea alone that this was possible for these people made him dizzy. He thought of the great war, of all those amputees.

He thought of Bucky.

But Asgard was gone in any case, and so were the soul forges. Nowadays, what was lost, was lost, like with the mortals.

The left arm Loki seemed not to be able to use at all anymore, even though it was, theoretically, the whole one. But while he had still sometimes awkwardly tried to move it after waking up, it had grown stiffer and seemed to cause him more and more pain. Fulla and Marco had put it in a sling now, additionally to the splint still supporting his wrist, and Loki very obviously avoided disturbing it in any way.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ asked Steve. ‘I mean-‘

‘I’ll be there,’ Loki said again and laid his fork back down on his plate.

He hadn’t eaten a single bite until now.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ Steve asked.

‘Not particularly,’ Loki said.

‘You should still eat,’ Steve said. ‘You don’t have any extra pounds to lose.’

Again, Loki laughed a little.

Then he took up the fork again, slowly. His hand was trembling a bit. Set it down once more.

‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t watch,’ said he, his eyes cast down.

His voice soft, almost pleading.

Will you eat if I don’t watch, Steve wondered. But still, the demand was clear.

He stood up.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow, with a new book,’ said he.

Loki nodded.

Steve was almost at the door, when Loki said, ‘Rogers.’

‘Yes?’

Steve turned half back towards the other.

‘The glass animals were an interesting metaphor.’

‘Yes,’ Steve agreed.

‘But strange.’

‘How so?’ Steve asked.

Loki opened his mouth, but then just shook his head.

‘No matter. Good night, good captain.’

‘Good night, Loki. Good night.’

*

When Steve entered the hospital room on the day of the meeting, expecting to either help Loki into the wheelchair or at least push it to the room where the Avengers, Phil and Fury would discuss the Thanos problem, he saw to his surprise that Loki was on his feet and in his armour, brushing his hair back with his maimed hand.

The other arm was still in a sling, though Loki had covered that with an overcoat.

Loki looked a lot better than was plausible, his skin a healthy pink and his lips red, and Steve reminded himself of what Tony had said – Loki was a liar. And saying it in Tony’s words: one who used magical make-up to hide his bruises.

Steve had no idea what to make of that. He supposed he should be happy Loki was obviously able to stand on his own feet without help (which had to be a very recent development), or that he was doing anything but sleep or stare at the ceiling. Steve had grown rather concerned the last few days about the god’s lethargy, and he had had the impression that Fulla and Marco hadn’t exactly been happy either.

Well, Fulla certainly didn’t look happy now. She was standing close to him, very much disgruntled.

Loki, as to him, gave him a small, lop-sided smile.

‘Oh, am I to have my own personal guard,’ he drawled. ‘And one as handsome as you? How _accommodating_.’

He raised an eyebrow – which didn’t exactly make him look _less_ regal and elegant.

Steve couldn’t help the blush – he still hadn’t gotten used to people actually finding him attractive.

‘Loki, this is a bad idea,’ Fulla said now, her lips thin. ‘You, Steve Rogers, tell him this is a bad idea, whether he walks there on his own feet or not. This goes against my every recommendation.’

‘I did tell him he should rather stay here and rest,’ Steve said.

‘It’s true, he did,’ Loki said, now smiling a little at Fulla. ‘And yet I’m going.’

With that, he turned and went past Steve to the door.

His walk wasn’t altogether confident, there was a slight limp to it, an irregularity, and he swayed a little (so Tony was right, there was a disturbance of balance), but at the same time, Steve could, under all that, recognise a particular kind of grace he only ever observed in the movements of dancers, or martial artists.

Come to think of it, since he was royalty and Asgard was a warrior culture, Loki was probably both.

Loki slowed down soon after leaving his room though, and after two turns put his right hand on the wall of the corridor for balance. He was breathing audibly.

‘Should I get the wheelchair?’ Steve asked, keeping his voice soft.

Loki swallowed, then shook his hand and went on.

By the time they had arrived at the elevators, he was swaying more noticeably.

‘Loki,’ Steve said. ‘Are you sure-‘

‘Yes,’ Loki ground out. His eyes fixed on the elevator doors, and then they gave their ping and opened.

Steve sighed.

He had to catch Loki two times to keep him from falling. One time, they had to pause for a while, giving him time to catch his breath.

By the time they reached the meeting room, Loki already looked dead tired.

He still straightened in front of the doors, brushed his hair back, and went in with his head held high, going straight for one of the empty chairs as if he had been part of the Avengers initiative on from the beginning.

‘Well,’ said he, after having tried to hide that his sitting down had been more of an exhausted drop, and looked around. And he did know how to make an entrance – all eyes were on him, from Nat, Bruce, Clint and Tony to Phil and Fury. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s begin.’

*

Five minutes into this and Tony already wanted a drink. But seriously – Loki was wearing his magical make-up again, Steve was obviously freaked out by it, Nat was disgruntled (as always, lately), Clint was suspiciously silent, Banner wasn’t comfortable in the same room with Fury (at least, Tony had negotiated for them leaving him more consistently alone in the future) and even less comfortable in the same room with the heart-damaged guy who the Hulk had strangled recently for no good reason. Fury was using every occasion to insult Loki or to question his story, and Phil was smiling this infuriating mild smile.

But Steve had banned alcohol from Avengers meetings, so Tony was down to kneading his stress ball. He did that so aggressively that Clint had already raised an eyebrow at him.

And it didn’t exactly help that Loki was so goddamned _useful_. Answering every question immediately, especially where they concerned Thanos’ strengths and weaknesses, or the infinity stones. He spoke quickly, pressing as much information as he could into as little time as possible, and he had a _lot_ of information to share, as it seemed.

He had already talked more at this meeting, Tony calculated, than he had spoken in total since Thor had dropped him at the tower. And he was certainly more verbose now that they weren’t interested in the New York invasion anymore. Loki had evaded a few questions about that during the first interrogation, Tony had noticed. He evaded absolutely no questions about how to find and protect the stones, and how to prepare against this Titan’s attack.

You really, really want that guy dead, don’t you, Tony thought, and pressed his stress ball. Something about all of this was making him itch, and not in a good way.

‘You are being very helpful,’ Fury said as if also for him, that was one of the main problems here. ‘Tell me, how come you are so very eager to destroy your former ally?’

Good question, really.

‘Because I’ve learned of his goal since then,’ Loki said, then cocked his head. ‘The destruction of all life in the universe includes me, and thus is, as you will surely understand, not exactly in my best interest.’

Not sure whether you actually think that, buddy, Tony thought. You don’t exactly have a perfect track record at self-preservation.

Nat, Steve and even Clint and Fury seemed to have similar doubts. In fact, no one in the room looked very convinced by the god’s argument.

‘But feel free to confirm the verity of my information,’ Loki said, sounding irritated now. ‘I’m just telling you what I know.’

‘Or what you want us to know,’ Fury said. ‘You have gone a lot less into detail about your role in the invasion of New York.’

So he too had noticed. Or Nat had pointed it out to him – that sounded more probable, really.

‘The invasion is in the past,’ Loki said calmly. ‘I made my choices then, and have since realised they were the wrong ones. That is all. I’m more interested in the future.’

‘And so much about our strategies for the future rely on your word, Loki Lie-Smith,’ Fury said and Loki, interestingly enough, narrowed his eyes at the director at that. ‘You will forgive us if we find that prospect not all that reassuring.’

For a moment, the trickster looked angry in a cold, dangerous way, then he smiled.

‘Not at all,’ said he. ‘And yet tell me – have I told you any lie about the invasion or the Mad Titan until now?’

‘You have,’ Nat said, and Loki’s eyes went to her immediately. ‘Or at least you’ve gone along with a few.’

‘Pray tell me, how so?’ hissed Loki.

‘I told you, remember, that you hadn’t managed to catch the one arrow Barton managed to shoot at you during the invasion,’ said Nat. ‘You did not correct me though you did in fact catch it back then. Then I told you that you had enthralled me, which you never have. Again, you went along.’

Wait, _what_?

And this time, Loki definitely tensed, and briefly, there was something vulnerable in his eyes, then it was wiped away.

‘Why would I not when you weaved such a pretty tale?’ asked he, his grin now shark-like. ‘I would have liked to enthral you, little spider. Such fun could we have had together, you, Barton and I. Imagine all the ways in which I could have made you corrupt and dismantle each other…’

He made his voice sound almost indecent, and Clint made a movement to stand up, his jaw tensing, but Nat laid her hand on the archer’s arm.

‘And now you’re trying to get us off track by provoking us,’ she said. ‘Barton brought you to a safe house after freeing you from that SHIELD base. Tell me about it.’

Loki… blinked.

‘It was an abandoned factory,’ said he. ‘We built the machine for the portal there, I-‘

‘No,’ Nat interrupted him. ‘Specifics. What it looked like. Smells. Sounds. Anything.’

Loki scoffed.

‘Barton knows that as well as I do. This is useless information.’

‘Humour me then.’

‘All your Midgardian dwellings look the same to me,’ said he, raising his chin. ‘It didn’t make an impression.’

‘The helicarrier then,’ Nat said.

‘Oh, I _like_ that part. I was put in a glass cage and used all of you to awaken the Hulk,’ Loki said with a smirk. ‘Then I tricked Thor into-‘

‘No, not that,’ Nat interrupted him again. She had her hands flat on the table and was looking at him intently. ‘What did the room the glass cage was standing in look like?’

The smirk faded.

‘Do you need me to describe your own ships back to you now?’ asked he dryly. ‘Are you mortals really so dull that you forget-‘

‘I don’t know, are _you_?’ Nat asked.

‘What do you-‘

‘Are you, Loki? Nat asked. ‘Are you so dull that you don’t even remember what the room looked like you were held in?’

‘Of _course_ I remember, you imbecile. It was…,’ Loki began, but he didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, his eyes wandered over them, from one to the other, and suddenly Tony could see the nervousness in them, as if a veil had been shoved away. He was searching for something, frantically.

‘Dark,’ said he then. ‘High… no, there was light, I… I don’t know what this is supposed to _prove_!’

Oh, wow, and there was the anger back again, like a blaze, directed at Nat.

That guy could switch between emotions _quickly_.

‘Nat,’ Bruce said, shifting in his seat. He sounded nervous.

‘Your deal with Thanos,’ said Nat, and Tony would bet anything she had used the name deliberately, and Loki flinched _violently_ , his breath hitched, he fled her eyes. ‘When you made that deal, where were you? What did the room look like? What were you wearing? Who else was there?’

Loki didn’t answer, but his breath quickened. He pressed himself away from the table.

‘I think…,’ began he, closing his eyes. ‘I think I would like to discontinue this conversation. If it was all the same to you…’

‘No, it’s not _all the same to me,_ ’ Nat said harshly. ‘And yes, we will continue this until _I_ say so. Do you _understand_ , or are you too dull even for that?’

And it was a sign of how much Loki had already lost control that he actually flinched at her insult.

The glamour flickered, then died.

Underneath, he was in his hospital pyjamas, and as ash-grey as usual in the face. His feet naked.

‘ _Nat,_ ’ Steve said, looking at her, bewildered.

‘Is this really necessary?’ Bruce added, shifting some more. He looked increasingly uncomfortable. ‘Maybe I should at least leave the room, this is kind of stressing me out-‘

‘Loki, _answer_ me!’ commanded Nat, ignoring both of them. She had stood up, and was towering over the god whose body was shaking. ‘Describe the room where you made the deal with the Titan. Or describe the room where you have slept when you lived at his place. Tell me what your bed looked like. Your bathroom. Where did you eat your meals? _What_ did you eat there?’

Loki gasped for air in big, desperate gulps now, and this was heading down a _very_ familiar lane and Tony did _not_ have the mind for this.

‘Nat, stop this!’ Steve said angrily. ‘You’ve proven your point. It’s enough!’

Tony raised a hand.

‘I have to concur,’ said he. ‘Triggering a trickster panic attack is not SSC, not even RACK. We stop now.’

‘No, I _won’t_ stop! Not yet,’ Nat said, narrowing her eyes at Loki. ‘Not until he answers. This is too important. But you _can’t_ answer, because you don’t _remember_ , do you, Loki? You know what others have told you has happened and that’s what you’re working with, and with those titbits of information you have constructed your story!’

‘This… this is absurd,’ Loki said, his chest rising and falling quickly. ‘I don’t… I don’t even know… where you’re going with this. This is…’

‘There is a blank in your memory where the invasion should be,’ Nat said sharply. ‘Isn’t there? Maybe a blank even where your deal with Thanos should be. And you are so sure, aren’t you, that you made that deal, that you _chose_ , but when you reach for those memories, there is just the knowledge, isn’t there? Nothing specific, no location, no smell, nothing material to hold onto. Nothing _real_.’

Loki gasped for air one moment, shaking, and the next, it was as if something in his expression shuttered close, his breathing abruptly calmed down, and he became _very_ still.

And… that didn’t look like a _good_ sign, all in all.

‘Loki?’ said Tony, tensely. ‘Are you… alright?’

The trickster didn’t seem to listen. His mutilated hand went over Tony’s meeting table until the remaining index and middle finger found the edge where the wooden surface on the outer part met the marble on the inner part. The marble part of the table area was slightly elevated and Tony honestly wondered, between waiting for the disaster to strike, what suddenly fascinated the god about that now. It was just something that Tony had found cool for some reason three years ago and that he found lame now. It was really time to redesign.

But Loki’s fingers brushed over that edge, then he rolled his chair closer, straightened himself up, and without warning and with surprising force slammed his forehead down on the table.

His body jerked, then slumped slightly to the right and didn’t move anymore.

Ah.

Okay.

That of course was a use for that edge too.

For one moment, nobody spoke. Tony rolled the stress ball between his fingers, watching the blood spread underneath the trickster’s head.

Then Clint said, ‘Fuck,’ and Steve jumped up, laid a finger on Loki’s neck, ‘What the _hell_ -,‘ Fury said, ‘Interesting,’ Coulson said, and Nat was looking at Loki’s still body with a frown on her face.

‘He’s alive,’ Steve said, with audible relief, then Bruce was already there too, checked Loki’s spine, then cradled his head cautiously, started to turn it, blood was pooling underneath by now and running along the border between marble and wood.

‘Jarvis,’ Bruce said. ‘Alert Fulla please.’

And yup, that cut was deep and was bleeding like hell – but then again, that was what head wounds usually did.

‘Loki,’ asked Steve. ‘Do you hear me?’

Tony very, _very_ much doubted that Loki could and discreetly pulled his laptop away from the growing blood puddle.

The god’s eyes were half-open, but it was pretty clear that they saw nothing. Knocked out cold. Maybe he had even given himself a concussion.

You had to give it to the dude – he was creative in his self-harm.

Or… at least efficient, and very much able to make do with the tools he had.

‘So I guess that in a way, that answers our question,’ Nat said.

Fury shot her a sharp look for that. Coulson, as to him, hummed.

‘Actually, I think it raises many more.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of Fury and Coulson, Coulson definitely is the creepier one in my opinion. 
> 
> Also, don’t be too harsh with Natasha – I know that Tony said that people are her job, but Tony can be a bit of an idiot sometimes. People are everyone’s job, and this version of Natasha may be high-functioning, but she’s also still very much a traumatised little kid who (paraphrasing the wonderful theorytale) was forced to kill her peers during critical stages of her emotional development, and thus tends to lose her ability to care about the feelings of other people when she’s stressed. And the situation with Loki is stressing her out immensely for several reasons.
> 
> This chapter in particular is inspired by a scene in [A Villain State of Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/516232/chapters/911205) by the brilliant Mikkeneko. If you know the fic, you know why ^^.  
> And thank you, Zaniida, for reminding me of this fic! I had forgotten that this was where I had the idea from XD.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, because this batch is betad anyway, and because I am a very impatient person, and because you seriously FLOORED me with the response to the last batch (Have I told you that I LOVE you guys/gals/agenders/fluids/nb-cuties?), and because it's samhain and I would like to give you a samhain present, especially considering how very whumpy this present is, and because we can all need some distraction at the moment, I decided to start the new batch today.
> 
> The flipside of the coin is that this batch is going to end with a terrible cliffhanger too, because I'm still evil (see the tag).
> 
> And I added an inspiration to this fic in general and one for the last chapter in particular. Sometimes, I add inspirations in retrospect because I don't always remember in which fic I've read this or that trope.
> 
> So, four more chapters, another cliffhanger, and after that a longer hiatus because the rest is not betad yet.  
> And yes, this is going to be a very whumpy rollercoaster for quite a while… so if you stay, you’re in for a ride… just saying.

Fulla was livid. She didn’t say much because she concentrated on Loki instead, but Tony knew when doctors were angry because he had made many doctors very angry in his life.

Steve had carried Loki back to the medical facilities, and now Fulla was closing the cut on the god’s forehead magically, after cleaning it and casting diagnostic spells.

Loki was still very much unconscious, lying limply in the bed he was occupying.

‘What are you still doing here?’ Fulla asked sharply after she had finished, not even turning around to them. ‘Haven’t you done enough?’

And so they ended up back in the living room where Loki had been smashed around all those years ago, and it seemed like they were waiting, even though Tony didn’t exactly know what for. Steve was striding up and down that room, his eyes still pretty wide. Bruce was at the bar, apparently making himself some calming tea. Well, Tony had made himself so calming scotch, so there was that. Nat was somewhere else, bidding the SHIELD delegation consisting of Fury and Coulson good-bye and probably scheming with them.

Clint was far, _far_ too quiet.

Tony observed Steve’s striding up and down for a while, and took another gulp of scotch.

Who slammed their own forehead on a table anyway? Weren’t there supposed to be all sorts of reflexes that should prevent you from seriously hurting yourself that way? Or didn’t that apply to Norse deities?

And there was Nat coming back inside, and she did not look happy. But what else was new?

She went to the bar, poured herself a shot of vodka, and drank it in one go.

‘Talk to me, Nat,’ Tony said, refilling his tumbler with the bottle he had left on the couch table. ‘What was that just now?’

Nat wiped her mouth.

‘A complication,’ said she.

She came to the sofa, but sat down in one of the armchairs instead. Steve stopped his striding, but planted his feet, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

‘I would very much like to hear about that complication,’ said he. ‘Especially since whatever you were after was obviously worth distressing Loki so much he decided to _knock himself out_.’

‘And risking me losing control over the Other Guy,’ Bruce added, sounding just a bit irritated.

... _and_ reawaken personal memories of other less than savoury questioning techniques, Tony mentally added. But he was going to be okay. He could compartmentalise.

Or rather, the scotch could do that for him.

Well… on most days.

Whatever.

Nat didn’t even look at the Capsicle or Bruce however. She eyed Clint of all people.

‘You wanna get out, Clint?’ asked she, almost gently. ‘Go home maybe? Here’s your chance.’

After a pause, Clint shook his head. He was still staring at the floor.

‘I still have to fill in a few gaps,’ Nat said. ‘And Loki is… a special case, so we might need to consult a specialist to make sure. Phil has suggested a name, Dr Sanchez – the same doctor who cared for Clint and Selvig after we got them back.’

Clint flinched visibly.

‘What are you saying?’ Tony asked but he could already guess.

Maybe he had been suspecting this for a while.

And it wasn’t even about the matter of Reindeer Games not trying to kill them all the time anymore, or about him suddenly turning so fiercely against his former ally.

It was the little things. The way he moved. His facial expressions.

Most of all, and Tony had watched the footage of 2012 again so he knew he wasn’t remembering things wrongly, the way Loki had _not_ ducked away from Thor back then the way he did now, had _not_ tried to assuage him, to _handle_ Thor’s temper.

So either Loki had developed all of that very telling subconscious behaviour afterwards, or…

‘I think we all know what I’m saying,’ Nat said. ‘His story about the invasion doesn’t add up. It’s full of holes. And of course it might be all part of an elaborate trick – but to admit his guilt so freely only to make us doubt it then by riddling his testimonial with contradictions is maybe too convoluted even for a god of lies. Especially since at the moment, he’s really not at his best.’

Yeah, well, that was understating it a little.

‘You said earlier that you think he doesn’t remember the whole she-bang,’ Tony said.

‘I did,’ Nat agreed. ‘I’ve been suspecting something for a while – that’s why I set up a trap, told him small lies. He fell for them. And this whole thing with this deal he supposedly made with Thanos?’

She shook her head.

‘My gut instinct is calling bullshit on that, and my gut instinct is usually dead on.’

‘So… what exactly are you saying then? That he made a different deal?’ Bruce asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

‘No, bro, she’s talking about mind-control,’ Tony said and rubbed his eyes. Oh, fuck. Were they seriously considering this now? He did _not_ want to think about the implications, if only because the implications would certainly not make what Nat had just done to Loki any _less_ brutal. ‘She’s saying Loki was just another puppet in 2012. Like Selvig and Clint.’

‘Mhm,’ Bruce said. ‘That would make sense, in a way. Except why would he go around and tell this story of the deal then? And Clint had no memory gaps at all – he knew exactly what had happened to him after we freed him.’

Right. Clint. Tony eyed him from underneath his fingers.

The archer was sitting slightly curled in on himself, the expression on his face tense as a wire. And pained.

‘That’s… not quite true,’ Nat said. ‘Though Clint had less of them. But I can’t say anything definitive yet. Like I said, Loki is a special case, in many ways. Last but not least because his memory loss might have a much simpler explanation.’

‘Brain damage due to a prolonged undersupply of oxygen,’ Steve said grimly.

Nat weighed her head.

‘That he’s trying to gloss over, which would fit his personality, yes. It’s a sound theory, and maybe part of the truth. But my gut instinct says otherwise. Or at least that we’re missing something.’

‘Your gut instinct says someone messed with him,’ Tony said, thinking about the badly healed injuries Fulla and Marco had found. ‘And with someone, you don’t even mean his completely fucked up family.’

‘Though they messed with him quite thoroughly, yes,’ Nat said, and in that sentence, Tony could suddenly hear hard bitterness.

Okay, so she was _not_ indifferent about this?

 _That_ was unexpected news.

‘His reaction to my confrontation corroborates that hunch – if this was just about memory loss due to brain damage, I don’t think he would have hurt himself in order to avoid my questions,’ Nat said, the anger gone from her voice as quickly as it had come. ‘Clint – what are you saying? Am I on the wrong track?’

There was a long pause.

‘No,’ Clint said then, his voice hoarse. ‘No, I don’t think you’re on the wrong track.’

Then he stood up and walked out the room.

Nat’s eyes followed him.

‘I think we should continue this another time,’ said she after a moment, stood up to and walked after the archer, unhurried.

‘Well, shit,’ Bruce eloquently summarised the most recent plot twist, and Tony agreed.


	24. Chapter 24

If Nat had planned on interrogating Fulla, the healer beat her to it. She informed Tony the next day that she was going to have words with them, _right_ _now_.

Sitting down with Nat (as the representative of SHIELD) and Tony (as the one having granted Loki sanctuary) in the same meeting room they had used before, she looked closed-off, and angry. Dr Marco was sitting next to her, and didn’t exactly look pleased with them either.

‘How is Loki?’ Nat asked, sounding even moderately honest about the question.

‘The physical wound was not serious,’ Fulla said. ‘I could heal it without trouble. Tell me what happened – who did this to him?’

‘He did,’ Nat said. Her voice was soft, non-threatening. Interesting.

She proceeded to tell the women what had happened – which didn’t seem to abate their irritation much.

Afterwards, there was a pause.

‘You will not do something like this again,’ Fulla then said, and her voice allowed no objection.

‘Something like what?’ Nat asked.

‘Pressing him about the deal,’ Fulla said. ‘Pressing him about the gaps in his memories. You will not even mention this incident to him again. Do you understand?’

‘I do. But I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ said Nat.

‘You will find that it is.’

But even faced with divine healer wrath, Nat shook her head. Despite his own beef with her, Tony couldn’t help but respect her a bit for it.

‘We are at the eve of a war,’ said she calmly. ‘And he has been lying to us about our opponent. I cannot ignore that. All life is at stake, Lady Fulla.’

‘And King Thor appointed me as Loki Odinson’s healer,’ Fulla said equally calmly. ‘And I say _no_. You will not do this again.’

Nat scrutinised the woman sitting across the table for a moment, then she cocked her head.

‘Only a few years back, Loki Odinson caused the death of over a thousand humans on this planet,’ said she. ‘And he was aiding someone who was evidently planning much worse. His actions led to the freeing of Hela, ultimately to the death of most of Asgard’s population, to the destruction of your very home. Don’t you think he owes us some answers at the very least? That he owes Asgard some answers? That it is time for him to stop hiding behind you like a coward, stop lying and evading his guilt, and actually start to help?’

Okay, so that was a bit out of character – Tony eyed Nat sidelong. Her face betrayed nothing but he was sure by now she was playing some sort of game. Trying to find something out, but not what she was asking exactly.

Fulla, as to her, was looking Nat straight in the eyes, and her gaze was not friendly at all.

‘Let me tell you something about Asgard’s healers,’ said she, and if her voice was perfectly level, there was something dangerous to it that hadn’t been there before. ‘The Aesir are warriors. They seek glory in battle everywhere, and healers often follow them into the battle field. Some more than others, I suppose. I was a royal healer, Lady Romanova, but I’ve spent a lot more time on a horse or in a tent than in the royal palace. I have seen countless battles over the millennia, and have carried wounded warriors across enemy territory, ready to fend off anyone who might attack me or my patient. Since the wounded warriors I was carrying were often of very high social standing, there were many and adamant attacks. Additionally, consider that I am a mage. Contrary to what most Aesir may believe, that does not exactly make me more harmless, especially on this planet where mages are rare and defences against magic practically inexistent.’

She folded her hands on the table.

‘I am charged with the crown prince’s healing,’ said she. ‘There are two persons on this realm who have the right to overrule me in that duty – King Thor, and Prince Loki himself. You, Lady Romanova, are neither of them. Until very recently, I was under the impression that my patient has been granted sanctuary here, and that I can expect him to be safe here. If that impression should change and should I come to the conclusion that you or any other Midgardian might pose a threat to the crown prince – I would be within my rights to ward off any threat as I see fit. Battle healers have _very_ few legal limitations when it comes to that.’

And that certainly seemed to answer a few questions Nat had had. She looked almost… satisfied.

Tony, as to him, was rather scared shitless.

‘Loki enjoys sanctuary here,’ said he. ‘Definitely enjoys sanctuary. And I was never in on that triggering the resident chaos god for fun shit. That’s not my idea of a good time at all. I can throw out Nat anytime. You want me to throw her out? You just say the word, she’s gone. I’m pissed off at her anyway. Most of us are at this point.’

Which was certainly true. Steve hadn’t exchanged more than a dozen words with her since the conversation following the incident.

Nat opened her mouth, probably to snap at Tony, but was interrupted by Dr Marco.

‘Even if Loki _were_ your prisoner, which he clearly isn’t,’ said Marco. ‘I shouldn’t have to remind you of the Hippocratic Oath or the Geneva Convention.’

‘We were hardly using unusual and cruel punishment,’ Nat said. ‘We just asked a few questions.’

‘A few questions that did not get you anywhere but that led Prince Loki to harm himself,’ Fulla said. ‘Should I allow you to repeat that experiment, I dare say you would get the same results, only the harm might be worse. What you are doing is not only detrimental to the health of the crown prince, it is simply _pointless_.’

And again, something in Nat’s face shifted, and Tony knew she had found an answer to one of her questions again. Or that some move in her game had been successful. She was really playing Fulla, wasn’t she?

Well, he shouldn’t have expected anything else he supposed.

‘Pointless,’ repeated she, sounding genuinely curious. ‘Why that?’

Fulla shook her head.

‘You will not get your answers that way,’ said she, not specifying whether she meant the answers Loki should provide or those she herself could offer.

‘You’re holding back information,’ Nat stated. ‘Both of you.’

‘There _is_ something called patient confidentiality,’ Marco said, rather dryly. ‘Even though nobody around here seems to have heard of it before.’

Nat’s eyes went to her.

‘But in this case, your holding back information harmed him,’ said she. ‘We triggered him without wanting to because we didn’t even know the trigger was there.’

Fulla let out a short, derisive laugh.

‘ _Without wanting to,_ ’ repeated she. ‘Please, Lady Romanova, I know your sort. Of course you _wanted_ to provoke him – you hoped to learn something that way, and you did.’

Tony had to give it to Fulla – she wasn’t exactly dumb.

‘Evidently, I did not tell you about the matter because I did not trust you enough. And that certainly hasn’t changed for the better.’

Nat narrowed her eyes at her.

‘Mhm,’ she said.

She cast her eyes down.

Tapped on the table with her fingers.

‘You take your duty seriously, as it appears.’

‘So it might seem,’ Fulla said, exceedingly dryly.

Nat looked back up at her.

‘So where were you then, the last thousand years or so?’

The anger in her eyes looked almost genuine.

Fulla blinked.

‘Yeah, come to think of it, Nat’s not wrong… when all the _other_ shit happened to your precious prince, where were you exactly?’ Tony said, raising an eyebrow.

The reproach was justified enough – Tony very much doubted the violence between Thor and Loki was something new. But would Fulla even admit that the abuse had been going on since practically forever?

‘Not allowed to take responsibility of Prince Loki’s health and safety,’ said Fulla, which was as much as an admission that it had. ‘Obviously.’

Her voice had lost the sharpness, something else had entered it. And if even Tony could hear it…

‘So am I to assume that his previous healer was incompetent?’ Nat asked, still tapping on the table. ‘Or simply didn’t care?’

A pause.

‘No,’ said Fulla then. ‘You are to assume that matters were… complicated.’

Nat hummed again.

‘Only two people may overrule an Aesir healer in their treatment of a patient,’ Nat then repeated Fulla’s words. ‘The patient themselves… or the king.’

Fulla did not answer at first.

‘Eir tried,’ said she then. ‘That much I can tell from her notes. She tried.’

‘Obviously not hard enough,’ Tony said, not bothering to soften his voice. Thinking of the family physician and how talented he had been at ignoring Tony’s bruises. Matters had been _complicated_ then too. Not least of all because the hospital the physician had been working at had been built and paid for by Howard himself.

Not even Jarvis had really intervened in the end. Not even he. And that was something Tony did _not_ like to think about, not even on a good day.

Fulla didn’t contradict him.

For a while, there was silence.

‘We suspect that Loki is recovering from mind control,’ Nat then said bluntly. ‘That his actions in 2012 were not entirely his own. It would be very helpful, first and foremost for Loki, if you could tell us whether you share that suspicion.’

Why did she show that hand?

‘Prince Loki’s mind is not your concern,’ said Fulla, her voice sharp.

‘I beg to differ,’ Nat said. ‘He has made it our concern when he came here to invade our planet.’

‘And I told you,’ Fulla said. ‘I do not-‘

‘You do not trust me, yes,’ Nat said. ‘You are right, I did confront Loki with his lies deliberately, so to provoke a reaction. And yes, I suppose you do know my sort. By which you mean that I am good at getting answers. No matter the cost.’

Fulla regarded her closely.

‘I am a blade,’ Nat said. ‘A weapon, so I did harm. But SHIELD does not only possess weapons. We need to know more about what we’re fighting. We need to understand how much Loki’s actions were his own during the invasion if only to know whether his strategies were his or his commander’s. We need to know how much we can trust Loki’s information in order to prepare. I repeat, too much is at stake. But we do have people qualified to interrogate him and take your prince’s health into consideration at the same time. People who would be willing to cooperate and respect your rules. Who might even be able to help your prince heal some of the trauma.’

Her eyes went to Dr Marco.

‘Psychologists, psychiatrists and psychotherapists,’ said she. ‘Some of them are all three. Dr Sanchez takes SHIELD patients.’

Fulla furrowed her eyebrows.

‘Mind healers?’ asked she. ‘I beg your pardon, the all-speaks has trouble translating those three terms. It does not understand the difference between them, it just repeats the same word over and over.’

‘Not your kind of mind healing exactly, Lady Fulla,’ Dr Marco said, looking at Nat with new interest. ‘Psychotherapists don’t have magic, just like our physicians don’t, instead we… specialise. Thus the three different terms. We use medication and a lot is done just by talking.’

‘And unless you’re like me and have zero med compliance and just talk your way around any shrink, that actually can work,’ Tony commented. There had been a certain wastage of shrinks who had had Tony Stark as a patient. As it appeared, he was… not quite an easy fit. ‘Which actually… I can totally see Loki not taking his meds and bullshitting shrinks up the moon. But I’m sure it’s gonna be fine… or something.’

He grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken up after all.

‘We’ve discussed that before, remember?’ Marco said to Fulla. ‘I suggested it but was not sure who would be qualified to treat a case like Loki – and then we had more urgent problems. Dr Sanchez… she is well-known in certain circles. She is supposed to be… rather good.’

‘And she has experience with paranormal psychological trauma, which is less well-known,’ Nat said. ‘With mutants, with super-powered humans. Most importantly, she has experience with helping humans recover from the control of the sceptre Loki used.’

That last sentence in particular seemed to catch Fulla’s attention. Her gaze was pensive, and Tony quietly wondered where the dice would fall.

‘So I ask you again,’ Nat said. ‘We suspect that Loki was mind-controlled. Do you share that suspicion?’

Fulla exchanged a short glance with Marco – a silent conversation seemed to happen between them, and Tony wondered when exactly the two women had become so close.

She turned back to Nat then.

‘Swear on the Norns that you will keep this confident,’ said she. ‘That you will only tell exactly the persons I allow you to. And do not swear lightly – breaking an oath like that has grave consequences.’

For a moment, Nat looked like she wanted to ask what those consequences were, and then seemed to decide that this question might be unwise. She was probably right about that.

‘I swear on the Norns,’ said she, and nodded.

Fulla’s eyes went to Tony.

He raised his hands.

‘In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess. And everyone is demanding oaths this summer. So yes, gods help me, I swear on the Norns too.’

Fulla breathed out, bit her lips, turned back to Nat.

‘To answer your question – no, I do not suspect he was mind-controlled,’ said she, and there was a bitter note to her voice. ‘I _know_.’


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning that this chapter deals with symptoms and consequences of heart damage and other injuries and complications. Loki has an alien biology of course, and he’s a god and very, very, very (!) resilient (I usually blame it on him being Jotnar, and a fucking powerful mage, and generally BAMF), but I still vaguely took human symptoms as a reference (wherever it was convenient). It’s still at least more than 60% whump convenient bullshit at this point, and it’s certainly not accurate (remember, alien and god, and whumpiness trumps realism), but it might just be realistic enough to be triggering. Also, some of the complications they talk about can happen with Covid too, so it might be extra triggering this year. Respiratory illness will be a thing. And this is going to be a recurring thing in this fic, and an important part of it, because this Loki will continue to have to deal with chronic illness.  
> So take care and be kind to yourself. It’s always okay if it’s too much. Or too much at the moment. I will never, EVER be mad if you stop reading because something triggers you. Your mental health is always more important. Just reminding you here.
> 
> 1 more chapter to go after this one.

‘You must understand that I, as to me, am not a mind healer,’ Fulla continued. ‘They have never been numerous, and none of them survived Ragnarock. But as a battle healer, I am trained in very basic mind healing – I had to be. Mind magic might not be a common form of warfare, and certainly regarded as dishonourable, but wars are a lot less honourable in truth than Asgard likes to admit. So I have some, if limited, experience in the area.’

‘And with that experience, you are confident to say that Loki suffered mind control?’ Nat asked.

Fulla let out a hoarse, sad laugh.

‘Yes, I am confident,’ said she, her voice trembling just a little. ‘Loki must have been… not easily overcome. I can see that, even now. And where they are still intact, his mental defences are strong. So please remember that before you judge him too quickly. But someone has still torn large holes into them, has torn them completely apart in places. The damage is… extensive. Yes, someone has taken control of his mind, has ravaged and pillaged it, twisted and poisoned it, and then has left, with no… no care for the damage done.’

She twisted her fingers together, fear finally daring to surface alongside the anger.

‘And that didn’t come up in his trial?’ asked Nat sceptically.

Fulla shook her head.

‘You misunderstand. There was no trial,’ she said.

‘What?’ Tony asked, wondering why he was even surprised. The more he heard about Asgard, the less he regretted it had burned down. ‘Wouldn’t he have had a right to that?’

Fulla eyed him.

‘In those cases where there is no doubt about the guilt, no,’ she said. ‘The king did give Loki the chance to show repentance, or to speak in his defence, after having his crimes read. The prince… used the occasion to compare his actions to those of Odin Allfather himself, saying that Odin had invaded worlds and committed genocides too, which did not alleviate his guilt in the king’s eyes, I fear.’

‘Huh,’ Tony said.

Yes, he could totally imagine Loki doing that.

‘So he didn’t say that he wasn’t to be held responsible because he was just a puppet?’ Tony asked.

Fulla looked at him as if he was a bit daft. And quite a bit insolent.

‘You would suggest…,’ she asked. ‘Even if Prince Loki had chosen to prefer admitting to such dishonour over imprisonment or death, which I severely doubt, especially since he would still have been punished for succumbing, he cannot admit to something he doesn’t _know_ about.’

Okay, so Fulla had just given him a _lot_ of disturbing information in a single sentence.

Tony stared at her, processing, and wondering what on Earth even to _begin_ with.

‘So you agree he is unaware?’ Nat said before he could come to a decision.

‘I cannot be sure about details,’ Fulla said, shaking her head again. ‘But he does not let himself see the walls and locked doors he has created in his mind, that I can say. I can say that there are lies constructed in front of those locked doors, hiding them, and that are meant to lead him astray, not only others.’

‘The deal with Thanos,’ Nat said.

‘Yes,’ Fulla agreed. ‘Though he didn’t admit to that at the sentencing either. The king… I doubt he suspected foul play, or at least he did not suspect the true threat. And Loki let no one near who might have looked deeper. He refused to see any healer after his return from Midgard. Eir was… angry about that. Her medical files on Loki bear witness to it. Even looking at him from a distance, she could tell that he was gravely wounded – it seems she feared for his life in the first weeks after his return.’

‘But she still respected his refusal?’ Nat asked.

‘What alternative was there?’ Fulla asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Treat him against his will and thus degrade him to the status of a mere beast? Yumi Marco has told me that Midgardian culture sees this differently, but on Asgard, refusing treatment is an unalienable right, and there are good reasons for that. Even if Eir had been able to convince the King to disown his son and strip him off his rights as an Aesir, just to be allowed to heal him, this would hardly have helped her patient in the long run.’

Yeah… probably not. Being reduced to the status of animal was rarely helpful, in Tony’s experience.

‘Loki’s really not good at protecting himself, is he?’ he said and rubbed his temple. ‘Rather die than admit to being hurt.’

Fulla frowned.

‘I am not sure I understand your reasoning,’ said she then. ‘And in a way, he was protecting himself. In a way, he is protecting himself now. What I could sense moving behind those locked and bolted-shut doors…’

She actually _shuddered_.

‘If you try to force those doors open, he will defend himself,’ said she. ‘That much I can say. And if you overcome him… I do not know. But I know that _I_ do not have the power or skill to handle whatever might pour out. There might not remain a mind left to interrogate if you break those defences.’

And that certainly sounded promising.

‘Alrighty,’ Tony said. ‘I guess we’ll leave them alone then.’

Nat looked like she was developing a headache. Then she swore in Russian. Creatively.

Fulla raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I didn’t even know you could _do_ that to a horse,’ Tony commented, which earned him a look with narrowed eyes from Nat.

‘Okay,’ said she. ‘I guess we’ll have to work with what we’ve got. Would you consent to Dr Sanchez talking to Loki, making an assessment of his mental state, see what she can find out?’

‘Preferably without opening the doors with the hellhounds behind,’ Tony added.

Fulla eyed him, confused.

‘Fenris is dead,’ said she. ‘He died in Sutur’s fire. And I sincerely doubt that he is what is haunting the prince’s thoughts.’

Tony… blinked.

‘That is not…,’ said he. ‘You know what, forget the metaphor.’

‘Concerning your demand,’ Fulla said. ‘I would have to talk to this Lady Sanchez first. There would be many conditions, and Prince Loki would have to consent to the interrogation too, if that is what it would be in the end. If Dr Sanchez can offer some relief for his pain… maybe. But I will not allow any mortal to harm or unnecessarily distress him further. Realistically, I do not think he will be able to answer many more of your questions in any case. It is too late for that.’

‘Well, that sounds not at all ominous,’ Tony said. ‘What are you actually saying? Is he leaving for New Asgard soon?’

Fulla exchanged another glance with Marco.

‘No. We are saying that Loki is worsening,’ said Marco, her voice calm in the way that was always bad news with doctors. Tony had learned to hate this kind of calm with a passion. ‘The fever is slowly but surely getting out of control and the time window of long periods of lucidity is closing. We are saying that we are talking about palliative care.’

Silence.

And then Nat swore another time in Russian, and Tony said, ‘Wait, _what_?’

‘There is a source of infection in his left arm, originating from the exit wound of the lightning strike,’ Marco said. ‘We have tried everything that we know might help, but his immune system has grown too weak to fight it, and so it’s still spreading. We can’t get his fever down for good, the anti-coagulants can only do so much, and his damaged heart cannot take the strain of a full-blown sepsis. It will give out if he doesn’t die from a stroke or a thrombosis first. And even if the heart could take it, the eventual organ failure would kill him instead.’

‘We are still looking for remedies, but we do not have the resources and equipment of the royal healing halls of Asgard,’ said Fulla. ‘Most of the medicinal herbs I use do not grow on Midgard, and there are no soul forges.’

‘But didn’t you say the infection was still localised?’ Tony asked, wondering whether he had misunderstood something.

‘Yes,’ Marco said.

‘Well, then cut the arm _off_!’ Tony said, not quite understanding the problem. ‘Can’t Space Vikings be amputated now or what?’

There was a pause.

‘Loki refused it,’ Fulla said.

‘… what?’ Tony noticed his voice was weaker now.

‘We asked him several times, at moments he was definitely lucid, and we made sure he understood our question and the consequences. He knows that he is running out of time,’ Marco said. ‘He still refuses the amputation. Otherwise, we may continue to treat him as we see fit.’

Oh, great. That was just… great.

‘Have you at least asked _why_ he says no?’ Tony asked after a moment.

‘I have – he hasn’t given an answer. And neither does he owe me one,’ Fulla said. ‘But it is easy to guess – his left arm is the one he writes and casts his spell with, his dominant one. Even if his right hand were whole, he would not be able to cast as well with it. Equally, he would be a lot less dexterous with the right when using a dagger or a sword. And with this hand being maimed…’

‘Amputation would essentially cripple him magically, in anything needing fine motor skills, and as a fighter,’ Nat said.

Another pause.

Fulla didn’t contradict her.

‘At the moment, there is little we can do but search on and concentrate on thinning his blood, mitigating pain and making him comfortable,’ Marco said. ‘If Dr Sanchez takes him on as a patient, she must be aware that what she has to provide most of all is terminal care. Any other agenda, including your war, must come second to that.’

Nat nodded, after a moment.

‘How long has he known?’ asked she then, and her voice was heavier. Tired.

‘For a few days now,’ Marco said.

‘So I take it he knew before the second interrogation?’

‘Yes.’

Nat didn’t even look surprised.

And yes, it kind of added up with Loki suddenly being so eager to give them all the information he had, the little asshole. It seemed that if there was one thing Loki wanted to ensure even posthumously, it was the death of that fucker Thanos.

Loki had to hold one _hell_ of a grudge against that one.

And how had they thanked him for all his help? By triggering him so hard he had to resort to self-harm to escape them.

This was just… delightful.

‘So how long does he have left?’ asked Nat, kneading her forehead.

‘Hard to say, but not long,’ Marco said. ‘A week, maybe two if he’s stubborn and if there are no further complications. But we don’t know for how much longer he’ll still have periods of consciousness. He did give us permission to tell you. Or rather, he didn’t particularly care either way. But you should be aware that he explicitly forbade us from telling Thor. He was adamant about that – Thor is not to know. Or… not until it is over. Afterwards, he said, we could do as we liked.’

Silence.

‘Oh, fuck man,’ Tony groaned then, leaning back in his chair, putting his hands on his eyes. He did not need that. He did so not need that right now.

‘ _Fuck_.’


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last chapter for the batch - since the next batch isn't beta'd yet, get ready for a longer hiatus. Also, I will try to update the Prestige next, so it might me take a while to update this one.
> 
> Trigger warning real world/2020, so beware (if in doubt, just skip this):
> 
> I'm... tired. I got a whole lot of bad news in the last days. None of it is truly catastrophic, but everything exhausting to cope with. My gran is okay for the moment but she was in the hospital again, a person I know and like is getting deported, some personal projects are not going well at all, and some assholes thought that shooting people dead in our city centre was a good idea bc what 2020 totally needed was another fucking terrorist attack bc this pile of shit that is 2020 wasn't burning high enough yet.  
> Fuck.  
> Sorry to be such a downer. I'm coping well enough I think by which I mean I'm angry and planning to spend a lot of time curled up on the couch today. And I don't have to work today, which is great. Anyways, you don't have to worry about me or anything, but I felt like venting a little.
> 
> I love y'all and you form a great community! Stay safe and try to be kind to yourselves bc by the gods you deserve so much kindness!

‘Fuck you,’ Tony informed Loki as he sat down at the trickster’s bedside.

‘Excuse me?’ Loki answered, raising an eyebrow.

Unsurprisingly, the god looked like absolute shit today. Like he was on his deathbed, which he was. And he hadn’t even tried to sit up when Tony had come in. Had just turned his head, from where he was propped up on the bed. His breathing was short.

‘You’re a moron,’ Tony elaborated. ‘An utter imbecile. You have the brain of a retarded bird. You make Thor look like a fucking genius.’

Loki narrowed his glassy eyes at Tony.

‘Not even a troll could make Thor look like a genius, copulating or not,’ said he, his voice raspy. ‘Is there a point to your insults, or should I proceed straight to slitting your throat and watching you bleed dry?’

Tony huffed.

‘As if you had the strength for that at the moment.’

He still moved his chair a bit further away from the bed though, just to be safe.

‘Do you know who I am, Loki?’ asked he.

‘Your name is written on the tower I’m currently trapped in,’ Loki said, exceedingly dryly. ‘I might have a hunch.’

‘Nah-ah, it’s not written there anymore – this is the Avengers tower now. Do you know what I do?’

‘As far as I can tell, your primary objective in life is to be slain by my hand,’ Loki said, then cocked his head. ‘Most of what you do seems to be about ensuring to reach that goal before you succumb to your overindulgence in alcohol.’

‘Not everything is about you, and I’m an engineer, Lokes,’ Tony said. ‘You might have noticed me wearing that awesome suit and blasting you off your feet with my repulsors? The person who designed and constructed it was me. I also invented the arc reactor that has fended off your little sceptre, and I fathered Jarvis.’

‘Yes, you are a craftsman,’ Loki said, but he did look at Tony with new curiosity now. ‘Much like the dwarves, but a fighter too. A fine addition to your little band of warriors. I admit it is reassuring that the army moving against the Mad Titan will have at least one member who is able to put more than two logical thoughts together.’

This time, it was Tony to narrow his eyes at the god.

‘Flattery,’ said he. ‘… is right up my alley, I admit that, so don’t restrain yourself on my account. It will get you at least in my pants if you want. But it still won’t get me off track. Which is that you are a moron.’

‘You are repeating yourself,’ Loki said, his tone drier again. ‘Maybe I overestimated your worth after all.’

‘You will die over a fucking arm,’ Tony said, throwing up his arms in frustration. ‘Over a fucking _arm_ , Rudolph! The suits I’m building are able to perform _brain surgery_ , that’s how precise their fine motor skills are! Did you think I couldn’t build you _one fucking arm_? Bucky Barnes had an arm prosthesis long before he came to our side, and it didn’t fucking slow him down _one bit_ , and he didn’t even have access to _my_ technology then! I can build you an arm that can do things your real arm never even _dreamt_ of doing, and I’m not only speaking of epic wanking skills. It’s just a fucking limb, Lokes. You don’t need it! Not really! If this is what’s killing you, just lose it! Good-bye, arm! You served me well until you started _infecting_ me! Now I’m getting something better! Now I’m getting something made by _Tony fucking Stark_!’

He accompanied the words by waving at Loki’s left arm that was still immobilised in a sling.

His speech… was followed by silence.

Loki was looking at him as if at a particular insolent bug.

He didn’t, in fact, look impressed at all.

‘I am very sorry to inform you that I will not die, Anthony Stark,’ Loki said then. ‘If you are quite done-‘

‘The _hell_ I am,’ Tony said. ‘And Fulla says you will.’

‘Fulla is being overly dramatic-‘

‘Overly dramatic?’ Tony interrupted him, disbelieving. ‘ _Overly dramatic_?! You’ve died twice this month alone, My Immortal, and now you’re doing it again! How many times has Thor held a funeral for you already? He should get a frequency discount at the local undertaker by now! If anyone is the emo drama queen here, it’s you!’

‘And Fulla underestimates me,’ Loki continued, as if Tony hadn’t spoken, his voice sharp. ‘As so many have done before and regretted it. But I am not so weak as to succumb to this. In fact, I believe I will be back on my feet before you are ready for it.’

‘ _Weak_?’ Tony said, raising his eyebrows. ‘This again? Is that what this is all about, about your stupid toxic masculinity? You’re choosing to die rather than admit that you’re ill? Oh my gods, that’s even _stupider_.’

‘I _just_ said that I will not die, you swine farmer,’ Loki said, sounding genuinely angry now. The colour of his skin (or rather, the lack of it) contradicted his every word.

Tony crossed his arms in front of his chest.

‘Or the arm is just an excuse for taking the next exit, is that it?’ Tony said. ‘Since Thor dragged you back the last two times? You should at least fucking consider getting a replacement made by me.’

‘An excuse?’ Loki said and laughed coldly. ‘If you say so. Believe what you want, you fool. In any case, I will not discuss the inferior technology and corresponding shortcomings of a hypothetical arm that you would not construct for your enemy in any case-‘

‘What if I did?’ Tony interrupted him.

‘What?’

This time, Loki looked genuinely thrown.

‘What if I agreed to build you an arm on the condition that you agree to the amputation?’ Tony asked.

For a moment, Loki looked like he wanted to laugh.

‘Out of the goodness of your heart, I am sure,’ said he derisively.

‘No, of course not. People claim that I don’t even have a heart, so there you go. But I’ve kind of made a promise to your brother to try and save your life, and he’s informed me that an oath on the Norns is to be taken moderately seriously,’ Tony said. This was the explanation he guessed Loki would swallow the easiest. ‘Also, having a wizard on our side in the war against this looney giant thing-‘

‘Mad Titan,’ Loki said. ‘And I’m a _mage_.’

Tony shrugged.

‘Tomato, Tomahtoh, you all use magic, which annoys the shit out of me because hello, shouldn’t you have to obey to physics, but the light show can be pretty practical in a fight, I guess,’ he said.

‘Even if I didn’t doubt your motivations _deeply_ , Anthony Stark, how does your offer help me? Your metal arm would, however sophisticated you _think_ it is, render me unable to cast any moderately complicated spell,’ Loki said. ‘It _is_ possible to meld magic and technology, but Midgard is not an advanced enough civilisation to do it yet.’

‘What if I accepted the challenge? Or what if I said, fuck your magic, you’re plenty useful enough just for your brain and your skill with knifes?’ Tony asked.

Loki regarded him pensively, then unexpectedly broke into a smile. It was not a happy one though.

‘So, in your opinion, I should resign myself to life with half a hand, the control over my magic reduced to that of a toddler, and dependent on your machines.’

The smile faded, and with it gone, Loki looked exhausted.

He shook his head.

And then, without another word, he rolled to his side, turning his back on Tony.

‘You’d not be the only fucking multiple amputee or disabled person on this planet. Still beats being dead, doesn’t it?’ Tony said. ‘And what if I manage to meld magic and my technology? What then? Come on, answer me, Lokes!’

But Loki didn’t answer.

And also for the rest of the visit, no matter what Tony said, he kept his back to him, and he stayed silent. Even when Tony poked him in the side.

That evening, after upturning a few tables in his workshop after having drunk a little too much, Tony decided to go and have another talk with Fulla and Marco. Ask them how he could help saving the little Norse shit a third time. There had to be _something_ he was able to do. He’d bring Bruce too – guy was a genius in microbiological matters, and he owed Loki for the Hulk strangling him and beating him up on Sakaar anyway. And Loki needed a drug synthesized or something. Great fit. They would rock this. No problemo. Loki’d be back on his annoyingly perfect legs in no time. Because Tony wouldn’t let his sorry emo ass die over a fucking arm. This was just stupid. Damn him if he would.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :) - with six chapters!
> 
> For those of you waiting for the Prestige - I've finished the next batch, my beta has it now, so it might still take a while, but it's coming!
> 
> For those of you who might need that particular warning – this is a dialogue-heavy chapter. 
> 
> General warning for Loki's health declining rapidly, and according complications.
> 
> Also, we meet Dr Sanchez :).

Dr Sanchez was a very short woman, had green and pink hair and was tattooed all over. As Tony soon found out, those tattoos would move on her skin, and also her hair colour changed sometimes. She was, despite being a mutant, not actually a former student of Charles Xavier, though she regularly took his students and also teachers as patients, and also held workshops and classes at the school sometimes. Dr Sanchez was also officially and unofficially SHIELD’s best shrink, psychiatrist and psychologist. When Tony had experimentally tried to talk her into a scientific corner, she had laughed at him brightly, not even bothering to prove her qualifications to him, and he had briefly considered asking her if she still had a free spot… right until the less constructive part of him decided that even if she did accept him due to some temporary insanity, he shouldn’t take the offer because he definitely wouldn’t deserve it, the privileged non-compliant alcoholic screw-up that he was.

Which rationally he knew would be one more reason to give therapy another go but in reality only lead to more drinking.

… in any case, after a long and private conversation with Marco and Fulla that apparently satisfied the scary Aesir healer enough not to throw her out immediately, Sanchez let Tony show her video footage of Loki – of the two interrogations, the fever dreams, the footage of the video call with Thor, of other interactions.

She looked at them with a particular kind of focus and asked him to send her the files for further analysis.

‘I’d like to talk to him,’ said she then, and Fulla consented.

Tony didn’t know what Loki and Sanchez discussed in there – Fulla had magically shut off Jarvis’ surveillance system again – but Sanchez stayed in Loki’s room for over an hour, and when she came out, she said that she would have to think about this and that she would come back the day after.

The next day, she had another rather extended conversation with Loki and then declared that she needed all the footage they could get of Loki from 2012. At Nat’s attempts to make her reveal what she had found out by now, she only smiled.

Loki’s fever, in the meantime, went up again, and he needed no invasive interrogations to get distressed. He managed that quite well on his own in his delirium, whimpering and crying and repeating that he promised to be useful. Pleading with someone to stop, to stop, to stop. Begging for forgiveness, begging for just one more chance. He could be useful. He could. He looked terrible, really, writhing on the bed a little but flinching each time his left arm moved even an inch, his lips dry and chapped, his dull hair sticking to his face, wet from the sweat.

His eyes looked sunken.

Steve seemed glued to the trickster’s bedside, and standing in the doorway to Loki’s room and observing the two, Tony wondered who would eventually have to break the bad news to the Capsicle. Bruce already knew because he and Tony were busy trying to recreate Asgardian drugs with Midgardian means and pulling all-nighters for that. The Brucie-Bear hadn’t even hesitated a second before offering all the help he could provide – apparently, he really was still feeling rather guilty about the bruises on Loki’s neck that might or might not have had the shape of the Hulk’s fingers.

But the rest of the team wasn’t filled in on anything yet.

Tony was voting for Nat having to tell them. He was still pretty pissed at her after all. But then again, considering how ‘well’ she had been handling the Loki situation until now… no, between the two of them, she was still the one who had more tact. She was going to have to tell them, and he was going to hide.

A new book was lying on Loki’s bedside table, but the earmark told Tony that Steve hadn’t gotten far in reading to the trickster.

‘… I can be useful,’ Loki murmured. ‘Please…’

*

Three days after meeting Loki for the first time, Dr Sanchez said that she was confident enough for a first assessment. Fulla, Marco, Nat and Tony met her in the meeting room again where Sanchez quickly confirmed the mind-control theory, saying that all evidence pointed towards it. That the way Loki was behaving was congruent with agents who had suffered severe trauma in that area but would not or could not seek help afterwards, or repressed what had happened to them despite the help they received.

She also offered to psychologically support him in the terminal stage of his illness.

‘I’m afraid that considering how much he is repressing about the traumatic experience, asking Loki for his consent is pointless,’ said she, turned to Fulla and Marco. ‘But he does seem rather eager to answer questions about this Thanos, so I would continue to call the sessions I will have with him interrogations rather than therapy if you agree. Assessments of his character, of the threat he might still pose. I believe he would be more likely to consent in that case, and it would not be an outright lie as I will try to find out more about our enemy, and about potential collateral damage that Loki’s mental health issues and his relationship to Thor might cause. I am aware of SHIELD’s priorities after all.’

With that, she gave Nat a lop-sided smile and even winked at her.

Which made Tony actually like her even more.

‘I am confident that I will be able to do that without triggering repressed memories,’ said she, addressing Fulla and Marco again. ‘Loki actually gives rather clear hints what to avoid if you listen closely. And I have some experience with terminal care. I honestly think that he might benefit from my help.’

For some reason, Fulla actually believed her. And after some hesitation, she consented. Sanchez seemed pleased, and Tony felt just a little relieved.

Yeah, _please_ let the professionals take over for once, he thought. The Avengers had screwed up badly enough.

*

‘Alright. Now that that’s done with, tell me what you left out in front of Fulla,’ Nat said as soon as Fulla and Marco had left the room.

If Sanchez was shocked or even surprised by the order or the assumption that she hadn’t been entirely honest before, she didn’t show it.

She leant back in her chair instead.

‘All I’ve said before is true,’ said she. ‘Loki was evidently mind-controlled, or brain-washed, and evidently doesn’t let himself become consciously aware of it. From what I can tell, he has never received any support in working out what has happened. On the contrary, he was sentenced to life in prison for deeds that he didn’t even remember committing. Additionally, everything indicates he has grown up in a society where losing control, being passive, a victim, is less honourable even than being a traitor, a criminal. You remember Fulla saying that admitting to having been forced would have meant a great dishonour, right? And that he would have been punished for succumbing to the mind stone?’

‘Yeah, I remember that,’ Tony said tensely. He also had tried very hard to push that knowledge away. It was just a bit _too_ creepy, in his opinion.

‘My theory is that the loss of control over his will and his victimisation was, in combination with the rest, so unbearable that he created a different story in order to alleviate the psychological strain,’ Sanchez continued. ‘In this story, he had not lost to someone stronger than him, had not been broken and overpowered.’

‘He had made a choice instead. He had been the villain,’ Nat said.

‘Exactly,’ Sanchez agreed. ‘In the context of Aesir culture, this would have been the preferable alternative. The one that paints him in a more positive light.’

‘And isn’t that fucked up all over the place,’ Tony murmured.

Sanchez hummed, but she didn’t disagree.

‘I think we can safely say that there was never any deal,’ Sanchez said. ‘Judging from his PTSD behaviour patterns and the information Marco and Fulla have given me about the old injuries they have found, it is highly probable that he was tortured into submission. When exactly they invaded his mind with the sceptre, before, during or after said torture, is an unknown.’

There was silence.

Then Tony swore elaborately in Spanish.

Sanchez just raised an eyebrow at him (right – she understood him probably).

But fuck, having their ugliest theories confirmed just like that?

Not fluffy at all.

‘Okay,’ Tony said and kneaded the bridge of his nose. ‘Let’s say that he had to build up a lie to keep himself from going completely bonkers… why not choose a different one? One that actually makes _him_ the hero? Maybe as the one sabotaging Thanos’ plan from the inside?’

‘Because the people around him already believed in the other one,’ Sanchez soberly said. ‘It would have taken a lot of effort to convince them of a heroic tale, and it took next to no effort to convince them of a villainy one. And Loki must have been very exhausted after his defeat – the mind stone drains people, I’ve seen that with the agents we freed, and if my theory is correct, he must have been under its influence a lot longer than them. I doubt he would have had the energy to construct a lie that would go against people’s expectations. Not to mention that he had no clues to go by than what others, who already thought him a villain, told him. Probably, he believed them.’

Well, shit.

‘What about the theory that the brain damage is responsible for the memory loss?’ Nat asked. ‘And that he hides that exactly _because_ he doesn’t want to appear weak in a society that shames weakness? Or appear weak in front of his enemies? That would be consistent with his character too, wouldn’t it?’

Sanchez nodded.

‘It would,’ she said. ‘And I suppose that at least for some of the gaps in his memory, there might be a somatic cause. I have the supposition, but I will have to talk to Loki for longer to confirm it, that there is a general unreliability to his memories and that he has had gaps in his memory for a while, even previous to the mind-control. Which of course doesn’t make the matter simpler.’

Nat furrowed her eyebrows.

‘Why would you think that?’ she asked.

‘Speech patterns,’ Sanchez said. ‘And he would not be the first survivor of severe abuse to alter or block memories as a coping mechanism, especially if the abuse happened in their childhood.’

Yay, and there they had a psychologist confirming the domestic violence.

Just… wonderful.

‘Related to that is another survival tactic,’ Sanchez said. ‘You said he was adopted, that he’s not Aesir and that Asgard considers his species as enemies, as animals and monsters even? That his true parentage has been kept a secret even from him for a long time?’

Nat nodded.

‘Then this all forms a rather congruent picture,’ Sanchez said. ‘He had to fit the image of the Aesir, or he would have had no place in that society – he would not even been considered a person in that society otherwise. So to survive, he made an effort to believe in that lie himself, convinced himself of it despite the incongruities he must have noticed – all those ways he was different from the other Aesir children. He had to put the others’ image of him before his own truth so to receive care, love and shelter. Anything that didn’t fit that image had to be altered or go – including memories. Such survival tactics don’t just disappear just because you’re an adult, even if you didn’t have a very good reason to hide your true identity anymore. Even if it kills him, in the end, playing to our expectations is a lot less threatening for his sense of self than actually contradicting us.’

‘… right,’ Tony said.

What Sanchez said made sense. It made an awful kind of sense.

‘The abusive dynamic between him and his brother follows the same pattern,’ Dr Sanchez continued. ‘From the little I know about Thor, he is not exactly fact-based in his narration either, putting it very mildly, and Loki will follow his lead there. Like I said, I would not be surprised if when questioned about instances in the past where his family had gotten violent with him, he didn’t have reliable memories about the matter either.’

There was a pause.

‘Thank you for that analysis,’ Nat said, her left eye twitching. ‘So can we trust _anything_ Loki told us about that Thanos guy or is it all just part of his pretty villain fairy tale?’

And of course she would be the one to focus not on the cluster-fuck of Loki’s personal life but on how it affected her mission goals.

Nat was such a soft-hearted little darling.

‘Mhm,’ Sanchez said, and then said nothing for a while.

‘I’ve thought about that,’ said she.

And again, she didn’t continue immediately, as if thinking the matter over one last time.

‘I noticed changes in his speech patterns in the footage of the interrogations,’ she said then. ‘So I analysed the speech patterns in detail – this is what took me so long. I will give SHIELD a detailed report of course but the very short summary is that while I cannot give you certainty, or at least not yet, yes, one can recognise different patterns, and they are congruent with different… narratives, I would call them.’

‘Narratives,’ Tony asked.

‘Yes,’ Sanchez said. ‘We all construct those. Nobody just tells the plain truth – even when we are completely honest, we always construct a story in some way. And we have a certain, distinguishable narrator’s voice. Several, in fact. Only with Loki, those narrators don’t seem to be as… connected… to each other as with other people.’

Okay… so this was turning very interesting… if a bit too soft-sciency for Tony.

‘Tell me about them,’ he said.

‘One narrative is constructed from actual, genuine and unadulterated memories,’ Sanchez said. ‘Or rather, this is not merely one single narrative of course, but I do not want to overcomplicate things. It is the voice that tells me what he has had for breakfast – even when he lies about how much he has actually eaten – or how the royal palace on Asgard looked like. Then there is the narrative he uses when he lies about the abuse, or retells what I would dub family myths – stories that the royal family constructed around the abusive dynamic. And then there is the narrative constructed from whatever knowledge he could gain about the invasion – there seem to be very few genuine memories there and you notice it in the way he tells the story. He relies on the language and words of others and hides that well, using his own speech patterns to cover up the gaps, but the story remains abstract. This is what you, Agent Romanoff, noticed.’

Nat nodded.

‘The story of the deal is the one he tells in the most vague way, mostly brushing over it and trying not to linger there too long,’ said she. ‘As I already said, I believe it is pure fiction created for a very specific purpose, and on some level he knows that. I would go even so far as to say he makes sure that he stays aware of that. And that might be one of the reasons this lie is so thin.’

Tony furrowed his eyebrows.

‘You mean he… no, I don’t get it,’ said he. ‘I thought he needed to believe that lie.’

‘Of course he does,’ Sanchez said. ‘But if there is one thing about him that I think I know for certain, then it is that for whatever reason, he really wants this Thanos to die. And if the lie about the deal becomes too good, too convincing even for himself, it might not serve that purpose anymore.’

‘How can you be so sure that killing Thanos really is his goal?’ Nat asked warily.

‘Because of the way he tells the story,’ Sanchez said. ‘The one that should make us help him kill the Titan. He is precise there, efficient, matter-of-fact, every sentence condensed with useful information. And he does offer details there, many details, but not a single one irrelevant to the purpose of winning this war. He might not have access to much of his episodic memory about his time with Thanos, but like with some very good agents I have treated, a part of his mind was probably still working, still registering all useful information and locking it safely away.’

‘He has training,’ Nat said as if she realised something there. ‘Or a lot of experience…. as a secret agent of some sort. As a spy.’

Sanchez nodded.

‘That is what my data suggests, though how that goes together with his status as a prince is an open question,’ said she. ‘The data is however also congruent with agents who have been trained to resist mind reading, mind control, paranatural manipulation of the mind in general. And that is a skill a prince could definitely use.’

Nat cast her eyes down, she looked pensive. But she nodded.

‘Fulla has suggested that too,’ she said. ‘She claimed that one could still see that his mental defences had been strong once.’

‘And she is very probably right about that claim. We have to stay aware that however dysfunctional or self-destructive Loki appears to us now, we are also obviously dealing with an extraordinarily intelligent and capable individual here,’ Sanchez said, ‘who apparently, and just as you said, had defences against mind control or at least mind reading already in place when he met the person he now wants so urgently to kill. The narrative about the deal might be a thin lie meant to keep him moderately coherent, yes, but it is also a very convenient one. Because it allowed Loki, without in any way breaking character, to turn against Thanos later. It allows him to use all the knowledge he has gathered about the Titan, anything that could be helpful, as a weapon against him, without having to actually remember the traumatic events themselves. As long as he upholds this lie that doesn’t in the least impede him in reaching his goal, he stays on track and functional. As a coping mechanism, I find it honestly admirable.’

She did look appropriately impressed.

And if put like that…

‘And if we don’t allow him to uphold the lie?’ asked Nat. ‘Because we don’t want to rely on the hope that you can distinguish each fiction from fact just because of some subtle speech pattern changes? Because we don’t want to accept the risk of him using your speech pattern analysis against us and manipulating us?’

Sanchez shrugged once more.

‘You’ve seen first-hand what happens if you confront him with the truth,’ said she. ‘And as far as I could tell without wading into dangerous waters, he does not even consciously recall the incident that caused him to self-harm. The memory of the interrogation is there, but your provocation, Agent Romanoff, and his violent reaction to it – everything indicates that he has locked this memory away just as tightly as the rest. I told you – deconstructing this part of his identity would be far more threatening to him than an attempt on his life. His mind will go to great lengths to protect him from that. He might use auto-aggressive means, like he did during your interrogation, but he might also lash out against others. I think Fulla judges the situation correctly – if you force it, there is no saying what might happen, but it could be pretty… extreme. Loki has the potential to become a great asset for SHIELD. But he also has the potential to turn into a very serious threat. I would not recommend it, all in all.’

‘Hell, no,’ Tony said. ‘I’ve had enough of full-on crazy Loki for a life time. Or was that even full-on crazy Loki? It was just mind-controlled Loki, wasn’t it – which means full-on crazy Loki might be even worse. So no poking, Nat’

He poked her in the arm at that.

She looked at his index, obviously considering breaking it, so he cleared his voice and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

‘Okay, team decision, totally democratic, we go with the lie,’ said he.

Nat looked like she wanted to either punch Tony through a wall, or just the wall, or go to sleep for a week.

‘So is there any way, in your opinion as an expert, to make him remember without him losing the rest of his sanity?’ she asked, sounding exasperated.

Sanchez seemed to consider that.

‘Were the circumstances different, I would suggest hypnotherapy,’ said she. ‘But we have used these methods with Agents compromised by paranormal mind control before, so we know better. It seems that hypnotherapy is in its nature too close to the original violation – for the patients, it was without exception a re-traumatising event the consequences of which were severe and in most cases eventually fatal. So not only would employing this method be extremely unethical, which would be grounds enough for me to refuse cooperation and escalate this, it would also not help you reach your goal.’

‘Yeah, no shit,’ Tony said, raising his eyebrows. He did so not want to know the stories behind that _lessons-learned_ talk Dr Sanchez had delivered just now. Eventually fatal – that sounded a lot like suicides to him.

Nat rubbed her temple.

‘What about Charles Xavier,’ she asked. ‘I _know_ he helped with Clint.’

‘He has helped us concerning paranormal mind control in the past, yes,’ Sanchez acknowledged. ‘So we also sought his aid for some of the agents compromised by the sceptre, and who had continuing mental health issues similar to what Loki is experiencing now. He could help some of them in the end, Agent Barton being one of them, but it was very delicate, risky work. And in one case, he refused.’

‘On what grounds?’ Tony asked.

‘The situation was rather similar to Loki’s. He would have had to dismantle strong defences created by the victim’s own mind,’ Sanchez said. ‘He judged the situation too risky and the probability too high that his patient’s mind would get damaged further.’

‘Eric Selvig,’ Nat stated.

Sanchez nodded.

Nat looked, if possible, even more tired.

‘Eric Selvig is barely coherent nowadays,’ said she.

‘He is more functional than you think,’ Sanchez said dryly and with a raised eyebrow. ‘Mr Selvig was exposed to a much more intimate violation than the rest, and yet he managed to resist the mind-control even while being under the sceptre’s direct influence. Do not belittle him, Agent Romanoff. Whoever had true control of the sceptre has thrust knowledge into his mind that would break any other unpowered human. And yet he survived. He had to shut away most of this knowledge to do so, but he survived. And so has Loki. We must assume that whatever he shuts away might be far worse than what was done to Mr Selvig. We cannot and must not rely on him being able to bear its weight.’

Nat shook her head.

‘No, I didn’t mean to…’

For the first time like _ever_ , she almost looked… ashamed? Contrite? Something like that.

‘No. No, you are right,’ said she then, and sighed. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’

Had she just… apologised? Nat was being weird today. Decidedly weird.

There was a pause.

‘Every coping mechanism has a purpose,’ said Sanchez then. ‘When it isn’t necessary anymore to fulfil this purpose, it might disappear. Equally, if Loki doesn’t need this lie to hold his sense of self together, he might be able to let it go.’

A pause.

‘Dr Sanchez, I do have some knowledge about these things. And I do believe that you are exceptionally good at your job, but nevertheless, in order to reach a goal like that, we’re talking about months, maybe _years_ of therapy even _if_ we get Loki’s full compliance, which we very probably won’t,’ Nat said, rubbing her temple again. ‘We don’t have that time.’

‘Oh, I agree. More importantly,’ Sanchez said, raising an eyebrow at her, ‘as it appears, neither does he.’


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters keep getting triggered and misunderstanding each other and lashing out at each other because they’re flawed and stressed and not always functional. Just warning you there. Everyone makes mistakes in this fic. Everyone is overwhelmed by the situation.

No, he certainly didn’t have that time.

Dr Marco and Fulla hadn’t kidded around about Loki declining, had they?

Steve and Tony were sitting at the trickster’s bedside, and for some reason, Nat was there too this time, her arms crossed in front of her chest, angry. She had been uncharacteristically silent after the conversation with Sanchez, and had spent a lot of her time away from the tower, with Clint who had declared that he wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit and wasn’t going to set foot into the tower again until this whole thing was… over.

They had been allowed to tell the rest of the team in the end, both about the mind control and Loki dying, since the former Fulla admitted to be vital information for the war, and the latter was getting more and more obvious anyway.

Like Fulla and Marco had predicted, Loki’s periods of consciousness had decreased quickly in frequency and duration in the last days. Dr Sanchez’ sessions with him had adapted accordingly and were now more about accompanying him in the process than about gleaning information or tackling his issues.

Tony had confronted Loki with his fucking _stupid_ decision a second time, and had had a long but rather one-sided argument with him about it, since the god had just looked at him, a bit dully, and hadn’t deigned to answer.

And had grown worse rapidly since then.

Most of the time, Loki was just lying there like now, his mouth open, not even shifting or writhing but unmoving, in a deep sleep that still seemed to exhaust him. His chest was rising and falling heavily, there was a slight wheeze to his breathing.

His tongue was very dry, and that looked weird and painful, as if it had developed ridges or as if it was about to scale off, but Dr Marco had reassured him that Loki was too gone to notice. Well, he was too gone to notice anything much, really. They gave him mostly pain medication now.

Thor had called the other day, and Tony had considered simply not picking up the phone and leaving it at that, because… because. But then he had worried that Thor might take that as a sign that something was wrong (which, to be fair, it was).

So he had texted the Thunderer in the end – _Sry, busy with wrk. Call u back soon_.

And would have laughed about the fact that the answer came in caps lock because Thor still hadn’t figured out how to use the phone correctly, he would have laughed if not…

_OF COURSE. I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IS LOKI OKAY? HAS HE MADE TROUBLE?!11!_

_No, he has made no trouble_ , Tony had written back. Nothing more.

Now, sitting with Steve and Nat at Loki’s bedside, he was playing with the phone in his hands.

 _STILL BE CAREFUL, IT’S LOKI_ , Thor’s last message had read. _AND TELL HIM HE’S MISSED_.

‘By now, I feel like cutting that arm off myself, honestly,’ Nat said now. ‘He reminds of that friend I had once. She died for no good reason too.’

And she stood up and left the room.

‘Mhm,’ a croaky, rather weak voice came. ‘…insolence.’

Tony looked up.

‘Loki?’ Steve said.

And Loki’s eyes were open, well, open to a slit. Glassy and blood-shot.

‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve asked, bending over him.

Loki didn’t answer, just looked at him, then his gaze drifted off.

‘Have I told you today that you are a stupid emo villain, Emovillain?’ Tony asked.

‘… ‘parently…,’ said Loki now and smiled a little. ‘… ‘mong vulgar peasants… should chuck you… out a window again… remind you… ‘oo you pity.’

 _You_ didn’t chuck me out that window, idiot, Tony thought. Thanos did.

Or, maybe that _had_ been Loki, or a mix of the two. From what Sanchez had said, the mind control of the sceptre was… complicated.

‘I don’t fucking pity you,’ said he.

‘… ‘s good.’

But Loki’s breath deepened already, his eyelids drooped. And each time he woke might be the last.

‘Hey,’ Tony said, stood up. ‘Hey, don’t you dive under again before I can talk to you.’

_Tell him he’s missed._

He shook Loki at the right shoulder, and Loki grimaced with pain, opened his eyes once more.

‘Tony,’ Steve said. ‘You shouldn’t-‘

‘You’re missed,’ Tony said. ‘Okay, Loki? You’re a fucking idiot and you’re missed!’

Loki looked… very confused at that. And then his eyes slowly drifted shut.

‘You’re missed?’ Steve said, and sat back down when it was clear that Loki had fallen asleep again. ‘What was that about?’

There was tension in his voice, as there always was, lately. The Capsicle was angry with him about something, but then again, that seemed to be the Capsicle’s default state. Or something like that. Tony certainly screwed up often enough to warrant anger.

At least, the Cap was still angry at Nat too.

Tony shrugged, sat down.

‘Thor wanted me to tell him that.’

‘Don’t worry, Big Blunder doesn’t know,’ he clarified as Steve looked at him, alarmed. ‘I respect Emovillain’s wish and everything.’

More so than you do.

‘Thor just texts me sometimes, okay? And for some reason he wanted me to tell Loki he’s missed.’

Steve raised his eyebrows.

‘The message would have probably been less confusing if Loki had known who it was from.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Tony said. ‘And a message from _him_ wouldn’t have upset him at all.’

Steve looked away.

‘It might still help him to know that his brother cares.’

Yeah… not sure that’s how this works, buddy.

And his own irritation with Steve rose up unbidden, as it had so often these past days. Because Steve had said, when they had broken the news to the team, that they maybe should tell Thor after all, even against Loki’s wishes. That Thor should know about the mind-control too. That knowing this, Thor might finally _understand_. Steve had seemed so convinced that this piece of knowledge would turn Thor… into what exactly, really? Less of an asshole? Did he really think that Loki not being responsible for the New York invasion would stop Thor from finding other excuses to beat his brother up, or strangle him, or…

Steve was so fucking clueless sometimes.

‘Anyway,’ Tony said and nodded at the book in Steve’s hands. ‘Tennessee Williams? That’s what you chose for Loki?’

Steve smiled cautiously.

‘He actually liked the _Glass Menagerie_ a bit,’ said he. ‘I think. He said he found the metaphor of the glass animals interesting, if strange.’

His expression grew more serious as he watched Loki’s chest rising and falling.

‘He never explained what he meant with that though.’


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warning as last chapter really, only louder. Aka Tony's and Steve's issues clash.

The way it looked, Loki’s indignation about Nat’s ‘insolence’ would be the last moderately aware conversation they would have with him.

During the next night, Loki’s fever rose again and when Tony returned to his bedside (Steve was already there), his glassy, blood-shot eyes were open but fixed on the ceiling and he was murmuring in a language neither he nor Steve understood.

His voice was weak, breathless.

‘… modi…,’ said he in-between. ‘… fadi…’

The veins radiating from his left shoulder to his collarbone were darkened.

‘Aw, shit,’ Tony commented and scratched his beard. ‘This isn’t gonna take long anymore, is it?’

‘We should think about taking turns, watching him,’ Steve said, his eyes on Loki.

So that there is someone with him when he leaves.

Tony slumped down in the chair next to the night table, and pushed the lilies away from his face.

Steve had, over the last few days, littered Loki’s room with flowers because apparently smell, sound and seeing colours was one of the last things to go when people died.

Tony wasn’t sure what the god had done to deserve the punishment of smelling _lilies_ though. Ugh.

The god’s right hand that Steve was holding was shaking, twitching in the grip. Loki’s face was twitching too. His eyes wide, panicked, lost in some feverish nightmare. He didn’t look like he appreciated the flowers much.

‘Yeah, no, thanks,’ Tony said then, and stood up again. ‘You watch this melodrama. I’ll be in the lab.’

Steve’s face stiffened just a little – irritated with Tony again. But he didn’t answer, his eyes fixed on the trickster.

‘Aren’t they supposed to give him something against the pain?’ Tony asked. ‘This doesn’t look painless.’

‘They did give him something,’ Steve said.

‘… modi… modi…,’ Loki said.

*

A few hours after, Loki changed his mind and started pleading with them to cut the arm off. He pled with anyone who might hear, because it hurt so much, it hurt so much, ‘I’ve changed my mind, I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry, please cut it off, it hurts so much, just cut it off.’

It was too late. The infection had long since spread to the rest of the body, amputation wouldn’t save him anymore. It wouldn’t even lower the pain significantly, and Fulla doubted that he would survive the surgery. Loki didn’t seem able to process that information though.

‘Please, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ , I’ve changed my mind! Just cut it off, cut it off, please, just… I can still be useful. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _please_!’

Tony fled back to the lab where Bruce was still trying to find something that might make a difference, and there Tony pretended for a while that he could help.

He couldn’t.

But he also couldn’t go back to that hospital room. He just… wasn’t he supposed to be at some opening event or something tonight? Or was it a gala? Something flashy, he thought, something extravagant. Slip on the Stark mask. Find someone who would fuck him. Smile dazzlingly, hide his eyes behind sunglasses, insult the hosts and drink booze. Escape this suffocating tower where Loki’s dying could be smelled everywhere, and he couldn’t…

Just for a few hours. Just for a bit.

*

Steve was not amused.

That much Tony could process despite the hangover. Not amused by the woman straddling Tony’s lap, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, not amused by the fact that she was kissing his face all over, or not amused that Tony was having vodka for breakfast. Either of the above.

‘Okay, sweety,’ Tony said when the woman’s lips latched onto his neck again. ‘We had a nice time, but now it’s show-yourself-out o’clock.’

For some reason, Steve wasn’t amused by Tony getting rid of the woman either.

‘Do you even know her name?’ he asked when they were alone in the kitchen again.

The woman had made a small scene but had left in the end. She hadn’t mentioned her name in all her shouting.

Tony shrugged. His head was pounding. His skin was itching from her lips and hands. He didn’t know anymore why he was still doing this. He always felt weird afterwards.

‘Sheryl,’ said he. ‘Or Annie. Tina?’

One of the waitresses at the party? Or a business partner. A journalist? He didn’t remember.

Someone who would claim his body because he was Tony Stark.

‘Ahah,’ Steve said between drinking from his protein shake. ‘You obviously had a very deep connection with her then.’

‘Sure,’ Tony said and rubbed his face. He hated this, the mornings after. Why did they all cling so much? Their touches hot – wasn’t it enough that they had him during the night?

‘And now that you got what you wanted, you throw her out like so much trash,’ Steve said.

Yeah, except he was the trash, wasn’t he? Trash made of money and able to put on a pretty smile when necessary. Who’d fuck anyone just to forget himself for a moment, just to feel desired. Not like an alcoholic middle-aged douchebag who only got laid because of privilege and capitalism. A nice lie hiding ugliness and power inequality. At least, Howard had enjoyed this. Or maybe he hadn’t.

‘Just emulating my father,’ Tony said.

Just going through the same motions, only with less conviction. Like his father, in every bad way, but without the charm. Without the real genius.

‘Leave Howard out of this,’ Steve said.

‘Why should I?’ Tony asked. ‘He’s the one I learned this from, isn’t he?’

Steve’s jaw clenched.

‘I doubt he would have…,’ he said, then shook his head. ‘You can’t keep blaming him for your mistakes, Tony. And I won’t listen to you bad-mouthing him any longer either. I know he had his faults but he… he was a good man. A good friend.’

Great, this again. But Tony had provoked it, hadn’t he? He had known Steve would defend Howard, and a vicious part of him had probably wanted to hear those exact words, the confirmation of how Tony couldn’t even _compare_.

_Maybe if you weren’t such a disappointment-_

‘I’m going back to Loki,’ Steve said then, stood up and turned away.

‘Haven’t fulfilled your quota of stupid today yet?’ Tony asked. ‘Cause I’m pretty sure Loki’s gonna beg you to hack off his arm again, now that it won’t make a difference anymore, the imbecile.’

‘Jesus, would it kill you to be less of an asshole about this?’ Steve asked, turning back.

Maybe, yes.

Tony drank.

‘Language, Steve,’ he said. ‘Also, you can call me Tony, only my shareholders are contractually required to call me Jesus from time to time. And I’m just telling the truth – Loki is a fucking moron, and he’s dying of being a fucking moron. It wouldn’t have had to come to this.’

‘Right, because accepting the amputation instead would have been _so_ easy for him,’ Steve said sarcastically, just ignoring the blasphemy. What a spoilsport.

‘It should have been. It’s better than being dead,’ Tony pointed out the obvious.

Steve’s ears reddened, which was a sure sign of anger. His face tensed.

‘You,’ said he, ‘How can _you_ even… you have _no idea_ what he’s been through. You have no right-‘

‘Oh, fucking stop with the _preaching,_ ’ Tony interrupted him. His head was hurting enough as it was, and the Capsicle’s righteousness was just the cherry on top of the hangover cake. ‘I’m not at fucking church. No idea what he’s been through, my ass. As if you _did_. You just throw around some moral platitudes and think that’s going to help anybody-’

‘At least I’m _there,_ ’ Steve said. ‘No, maybe I don’t know either what he’s been through, but I _know_ why he refused the amputation! I know he’s dying because being useful has a higher priority for him than being _alive_! And… and I wish I didn’t get that but I _do_! And you, what have _you_ done once it became clear he won’t make it? You abandon him, just like the others. Just like Nat who first bullies him into knocking himself out and now won’t even pay him a visit anymore. No one ever stays to watch the end, do they? People are only there for you when there’s still hope you might get better. When that’s done with? Then you make them _uncomfortable_. Then suddenly they declare that they _can’t deal_ , as if you were in any way more qualified than them to deal with all of this, just because it’s you who’s dying. But you _aren’t_ more qualified, you can’t deal with this shit _any better_ than they can. It doesn’t matter. In the end, you are always left alone.’

His eyes were shining.

And maybe that and the overlong, overemotional speech should have made Tony think before talking, but the hangover pretty much made that impossible.

‘Yeah, right,’ he said bitterly instead of thinking, looking away from Steve. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the words. Not with the cocktail disinhibiting him, not with the headache, not with the constant tightness in his chest. ‘So that’s what you want from me? That I watch this predictable shit show through to the end? His death is not exactly _original_ , Steve. He’s dying of the consequences of abuse because Thor struck him down and then couldn’t be bothered to consistently take care of him afterwards. It’s not even the injury itself that’s killing him but the _neglect_. Thor neglecting his health. Loki himself neglecting his health. He’s dying because nobody gave a damn, because his health doesn’t _matter_. Because it’s okay to hurt him and then carry on as if nothing had happened. Leave him to deal with the consequences. This dynamic isn’t new, Steve. I’m pretty sure this has been going on for centuries. And the same rules always apply in abuse as severe as this – you either get out or the abuser will kill you in the end. That’s just the way it is. His death is banal. I could walk two blocks down, enter any apartment building and watch the same thing play out all over again. And over, and over, and _over_. It’s fucking _boring_ , Steve.’

His voice had broken at the last sentence, but he had kept his expression stiff. Emotionless. Not looking at the other.

There was silence.

‘So maybe it’s boring, and banal,’ Steve said coolly. So he hadn’t understood a word that Tony had said. Of course he hadn’t. Tony didn’t even know why he had tried. ‘But someone needs to be there all the same.’

*

Thor called again and Tony _really_ couldn’t deal with it. He didn’t answer the phone and told Nat to call him back.

 _IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?_ , Thor texted later. _IS LOKI BEHAVING? IS HE OKAY? BE AWARE THAT HE LIES!1!_

Tony was lying on his bed then, curled up. Hugging a pillow, because Bruce had thrown him out the lab at some point.

After a while, his Starkphone lit up again, vibrated.

_DOES HE STILL NOT WANT TO SEE ME? I STILL DON’T BELIEVE HE’S AFRAID OF ME._

No, of course not, buddy.

Never.

Again, the phone vibrated.

_WE COULD JUST TALK ON THE PHONE AGAIN. HE CAN’T BE AFRAID OF ME ON THE PHONE._

Somewhere downstairs, Steve was sitting on a chair next to a bed and reading Shakespeare out loud to someone who couldn’t hear. To a body that was still fighting for every breath. It had been several days now since Loki’s last conscious moment. But Dr Marco had warned them that Loki was tenacious, that he might hold on for a while.

Stubborn, she had said.

Tony wished this was finally over.

The phone vibrated again. Tony took it up once more, looked at the screen.

_ARE YOU STILL ANGRY WITH ME? YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL – LOKI MIGHT TURN YOU AGAINST ME OUT OF SPITE._

‘Sir,’ Jarvis said then. ‘Would you give me permission to mute Thor Odinson’s incoming calls and messages as long as their content isn’t urgent?’

Tony laid the phone back down, pressed his face into the pillow.

‘Permission granted,’ he said into the pillow, but despite the muffled voice, Jarvis understood.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags - I added "terminal illnesses" as a tag because even if from a medical POV, this is still at least 60% bullshit, I realised that from an emotional/psychological POV, I'm actually describing the last stages of terminal illness pretty realistically.
> 
> So stay safe and aware that it's always okay to not read something because you don't feel up to it (at all or at the moment).

‘What are you thinking about?’

Clint’s voice was soft, in the darkness. They lay cuddled up on the couch on the ground floor of Clint’s house. Laura was upstairs, hopefully sleeping soundly for once.

Natasha frowned at the ceiling a little, at the small water stain there, wondering whether to broach that subject. It was a sensitive one, and Clint was already in a bad place. She was supposed to take care of him, not the other way round.

‘It’s not important,’ she said.

She felt Clint’s head move on her chest, his arms pulling her closer.

‘It actually sounds like it is,’ he said.

A pause.

‘Come on, Nat,’ he said then. ‘I won’t break.’

Natasha still hesitated.

‘I’m thinking about the Red Room,’ she said then.

Clint hummed.

‘Yeah, thought so.’

‘You did?’

‘Manipulation,’ he said. ‘Brain washing. Being used and abused as a tool to murder people. Being a victim and a perpetrator at the same time. Too many similarities to Loki’s situation.’

Well,… yes.

‘We don’t have to talk about this,’ she said.

He had been so angry with her after that second interrogation. His face had been deep red when she had finally caught up with him and had forced him to talk to her despite his attempts to evade it. He had shouted at her, had shoved her away, and he had cried at the same time, had shivered.

‘I know,’ Clint said. ‘Come on, Nat. You have to learn to respect my boundaries better, yes. But you also have to learn to trust me when I say that I’ll be okay. And I’ll be okay. So spill.’

But she felt him tense in her arms, and she caressed him in response. Who are you trying to convince, Clint? We all know how bad your nightmares have been lately. How hard it is for you these days to stand up in the mornings, to go shower, to eat. There is a reason I’m here on cuddle duty.

And this is my fault. I screwed up. I know that.

_You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Nat! How… how can you DO this, first defend me against SHIELD, telling them they can’t just go and experiment with my mind, risking my mental health like that, and then you go and…do THIS? Right in fucking front of me! So is this how Sanchez should have treated me after New York, huh? Is this what you really wanted to do back then, prod at the trauma until I hurt myself? You’re a fucking asshole! Sometimes, you’re such a fucking asshole, Nat!_

And he had shivered so much. He had descended into a panic attack right then and there.

Her fault.

Still, he was right. She had to learn to trust him. That was part of the deal.

‘It seems… it seems I continue having trouble staying… professional,’ she said, and breathed out. She could do this. She could voice a weakness. It was okay. ‘I try, but… the other day, I got so angry with Loki again for repressing those memories, for withholding potentially vital information from us. I… I almost told Sanchez in the face to go screw the risks, let Xavier break through his defences because Loki has to get himself together and deal like the rest of us, because there are more important things than his issues at stake. Because he’s dying anyway.’

She paused.

‘Ouchy,’ Clint said then, and she felt relief flood her. The relief that this time, he understood her immediately. That he had really _listened_ to her when she had explained herself back then.

She nodded.

‘Yes,’ she said, and felt tears build up in her eyes. ‘I still spoke about him as if that was _me_ , lying there.’

She felt the tears run down her cheeks. Clint was caressing her lower arm. She wanted to brush his hand away. She wasn’t _worth_ this after all.

‘Over-identifying,’ she said with a small, humourless chuckle. ‘I told you.’

_You’re right, Clint, I’m a hypocrite. I am. And I’m sorry. But it’s not… I don’t think you really understand._

‘But this time, you recognised these old thoughts,’ he answered. ‘You saw them as what they were.’

‘Yeah,’ Natasha said after some hesitation. Her voice felt tight. ‘After a moment, I did. But not at first. At first, I was so cold about him, Clint, _again_. I would have done _anything_ to him in that moment, and when I realised, it scared me shitless, I-‘

This sharp, ruthless loathing that was not quite professional indifference but looked so much like it. It was hard as a brick wall and didn’t care about the pain because what did it matter, she just had to get herself together. You worthless monster, stop crying, stop pretending to care, we all know you are incapable of that! You’re already a hollow shell anyway, so what does further damage matter anymore? You can take it – save the rest.

She heard a sob and realised it had to come from her.

And Clint pulled her more tightly into his arms, caressed her head, whispered to her.

‘Hey, Nat, it’s okay to be scared,’ he said. ‘These thoughts are fucking scary. And yeah, you hurt him, and you hurt me. And yeah, I was angry. But… look, shit happens. We screw up. All the fucking time. It’s a good sign that you recognise these thoughts. It’s a good sign that they scare you. And they’re not you. I promise you, Nat, they’re not you.’

She wasn’t so sure.

Monster.

You are an unfeeling monster.

You are a weapon – all you do is harm.

The pain gripped her chest tightly, and she wailed.

*

It’s a banal death. It’s fucking _boring_.

Steve could see what Tony meant. In a way.

He looked up from his drawing block at the body in the bed that was somehow still breathing, and then down again. Sketching Loki’s face, for lack of anything else to do.

Loki’s lips were bluish and cracked, sore. His eye-lids swollen. His mouth always open, his breath wheezing. The entire room smelt of his sickness. It wasn’t _pleasant_ to be here, and not comfortable, no.

Steve’s own dying had been banal too. Boring even for him, at least the parts he could remember afterwards. Terminal illness in general could be summarised to uncomfortable, unpleasant boredom in a way.

For the relatives. For the sick themselves.

In the end, it often boiled down to this: The body was dying, irreversibly declining, but not quickly enough. The process was drawing out, with everyone getting weary as they were waiting. Not being able to interact with the dying anymore, but still trapped in that room, still not allowed or unable to carry on with their lives. Dealing with a grief that came long before the last breath was drawn, a grief that settled firmly in their hearts, and made them almost impatient for the end.

Steve could remember seeing this impatience in his mother’s eyes. In Bucky’s eyes. He remembered feeling so lonely.

He remembered feeling like such a heavy burden, and he remembered wishing for the end, and at the same time praying for it to wait. Clinging to life, selfishly.

No, it was not easy, accompanying Loki. Easier maybe for Steve than for the others, because he had been there, in that bed. But for someone like Tony who shrugged off any genuine emotion with a sarcastic comment…

Steve thought he had realised by now his own naiveté concerning Loki’s situation – after his proposal to tell Thor of his brother’s terminal condition against Loki’s will had been shut down by several Avengers with surprising vehemence and after Tony had told him to finally go and fucking look up abuse on Wikipedia, he had done just that… he had looked it up.

And yes, he had found out that what he had proposed had been dangerously stupid.

And yes, maybe Tony knew more about how this kind of thing worked. He had grown up in a different society after all – a society that talked a whole lot more about issues like these.

Steve could admit that his own knowledge about many matters was simply… well, outdated.

But he still couldn’t help feeling resentment at the inventor’s _coldness_. His aloof distance. The casual way in which he referred to Loki’s abuse. Maybe he _knew_ more about this kind of dynamic, but there was something hard and unforgiving in Tony’s tone when he was talking about it that Steve hated. As if it was _Loki’s_ fault for not having run from Thor in time. As if he should now just stop being such a sissy and get himself together. It reminded Steve of his old phys ed teacher, who had never accepted Steve’s condition as an excuse, expecting him to climb up the rope just as quickly as the other kids did.

And in a way, that treatment had helped harden Steve, strengthen his resolve to overcome the obstacles in his way, no matter what.

But he didn’t delude himself into thinking that this had been the teacher’s goal. That teacher just hadn’t cared that Steve had had it so much harder than the other kids. He hadn’t bothered to understand that not everyone could accomplish anything, if only they made an honest effort.

That stupid American dream.

Steve had _known_ , intimately and despite all his efforts to prove the contrary, that this dream was a great lie. Even trying to get accepted by the army the tenth time, he had known it to be a lie. Even standing up again and again after being beat down, he had known it to be a lie. His body had taught him, every single day, that no matter _what_ he did and wanted, there were so, _so_ many things that would always stay beyond his grasp – including living to the age of fifty.

The serum… the serum had just been cheating.

The American dream was what they were selling to the poor, using people like Steve, so that the poor stayed silent and hardworking and docile. See, if you really made an effort, you could do it. Just like Steve Rogers, the sick kid without two pennies to spare. Hah, as if he had accomplished any of this with his efforts alone. He had caught the attention of a brilliant doctor, that was all, and the rest had been luck and research funded by Howard and the army. They had sold his dream to the poor all the same back then, and they were still doing it now.

Some things never changed.

Loki’s face started twitching slightly, and Steve pressed the button to call the nurse. The pain medication had to be wearing off again. It did so quickly, he found.

But what would Tony know about not getting what you wanted? Maybe Steve was entertaining exaggerated expectations of a man who had been born healthy, a genius and a billionaire. Tony had grown up with practically _all_ the privileges this world could offer. He had probably never even gone to a job interview in his entire life. He knew nothing of not being able to pay the next visit of the doctor; he knew nothing of living in a body that just kept failing on you all the damn time. He knew nothing of being gay in a time where being gay got you killed or imprisoned.

There were so, so many things Tony Stark knew nothing about.

Somehow, the thought didn’t abate Steve’s anger with the inventor. Not in the least.

*

And then one afternoon, during one of Steve’s visits, Loki without warning and without waking up fell into an acute shortness of breath.

One moment, he was breathing with an audible wheeze but in the rhythm Steve had gotten used to, and the next, Loki was gasping rapidly for air, his eyes open but unseeing, his chest rising and falling shallowly but quickly, his body in obvious distress and the beeping of the heart monitor quickening.

And then nurses were already there, and then Marco and Fulla, and then Steve had already been pushed out the room, watching through the one-way mirror as they all crowded around the trickster, Loki’s body already glowing with diagnostic spells. One of the nurses shut the curtain to the one-way mirror then.

Steve wondered whether this was the end. Whether they would have to call Thor and inform him of his brother’s passing the very same day.

It wasn’t, not yet.

It easily could have been, but it wasn’t because Marco and Fulla managed to dissolve the thrombosis in Loki’s left lung before the damage was fatal. They were not in time to save the entire affected pulmonary lobe though – the undersupply of oxygen had led to tissue dying off, worsening the god’s already reduced pulmonary function even further.

When Steve was allowed to see him again, an oxygen mask was covering Loki’s nose and mouth. For the moment, they didn’t have to actively ventilate him, but they would probably get there soon enough.

Steve threw the faded flowers in the trash and put the new flowers in the vase, thinking of all those nights when he had struggled for every breath, with the knowledge that he would probably not see the morning. How scared he had been. In the end, no matter how fancy the machines surrounding him were, Loki was just in the same position as Steve had been, back then. A body was still just a body, even in the twenty-first century. When it started to fail, there was still not much one could do.

He put music on, and sat down in the chair.

But he could be there. Loki wasn’t alone all the time, and that was something.

*

Stubborn was one way to say it.

For all his suicidal tendencies, Tony thought, looking at his sleeping form, Loki was clinging to life so strongly it was almost (read very) painful to watch.

And it wasn’t just because he was a super-powered alien or something, because also according to Fulla’s predictions, Loki had been living past his last expiry date for about half a week now.

And it fucking showed.

He had grown disturbingly gaunt, and his breath was weak and laboured despite the additional oxygen he was getting. The blackened veins reached his face and chest now, poisoning everything. His skin was something between greyish and yellow, courtesy of his liver or some other important alien organ failing, Tony supposed. There probably wasn’t much awareness left in him, but he was still alive.

‘Some people just don’t go easily,’ Bruce had said and rubbed his eyes, then blinking in order to focus on the computer screen again. ‘Fucking unlucky, that guy, even in that.’

Tony kinda had to agree.

Maybe Loki was still hanging in there because he was a Jotunn. Maybe the Jotnar were all like that, resilient to a fault.

Or maybe it was just him.

In any case, since the end result would still be the same, because Loki’s body was still slowly but steadily shutting down, it wasn’t any fun for anyone involved.

Nat had flown down to Norway today, as a kind of emergency de-escalation measure. Because of course even dull Thor could smell by now that something was foul, and was getting more and more impatient in his demands to see or at least talk to his brother.

Tony wondered what Nat would tell him – not the truth, she had promised that.

And he had asked no further.

Steve, as to him, was holding up amazingly well, all things considered. He was obviously still angry with Tony, which Tony decided to ignore. He had said his part – it wasn’t his fault if Steve refused to understand. Apart from that, Steve looked sleep-deprived, and sad in a very quiet way, and he still insisted on stuffing Loki’s room with flowers and playing him music and reading to him, but Tony thought he was weathering all this much better than he himself did.

‘I was in his place,’ Steve said and shrugged when Bruce commented on his resilience.

They were sitting at the bar again, Tony, Bruce and Steve. Bruce was only drinking coffee because he was planning to get back into the lab soon, still trying to help Fulla and Marco even though Loki was rather obviously beyond help by now. Steve was theoretically drinking a ginger beer but actually just fondling the bottle.

‘Before the serum, I was really sick, remember?’ he said. ‘And there were a few times when they… had written me off, to be honest. I proved them wrong.’

‘And you think Loki will prove us wrong?’ Bruce asked.

Tony was plucking the rosemary for his gin. It had been a while since he had actually made himself a drink and hadn’t simply chucked down the booze straight from the bottle.

‘Fulla doesn’t think so,’ he said because misplaced hope would help no one.

Steve looked about to argue, then he shrugged.

‘I survived,’ he said and drank from his ginger beer. ‘But a lot of sick kids who were lying in the same ward with me died. Some of them had had much higher chances of survival than I had. Some of them fought for weeks and then got better, and then died anyway. Sickness has… a logic of its own. If there is a logic to it. I’ve never understood it in any case. I never felt there was a good reason one kid made it and the next didn’t.’

Tony’s phone vibrated on the bar at that moment, and he bent over it, looking at the screen. Seeing the spider symbol, Tony picked up at once.

‘What’s going on, Nat?’ he asked.

‘We’ve got a problem,’ Nat said. ‘Thor-shaped, sparking, and headed your way.’

‘Headed our way? _How_?’

‘Seems like he can fly without his hammer,’ Nat said, sounding very annoyed about that. ‘At least when he’s upset enough.’

‘You didn’t-‘

‘Of course I didn’t, you dolt,’ Nat said. ‘But the situation… escalated. He knows _something_ is up and it seems he is done waiting.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sounds promising. Lol.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Thor not wanting a whopper to go.   
> Also for suicidal behaviour linked to alcoholism (no, it’s not Thor who is being suicidal, I’m sorry). This fic is all about kittens and flowers, isn’t it?
> 
> Note because of canon-noncompliance:
> 
> I think I said it at the start, but remember especially for this chapter that Civil War has NOT happened in this fic. Ultron also didn't happen btw. because no way I'm gonna kill off Jarvis.
> 
> This also means that Bucky has NOT killed Tony's parents. In this AU, they really simply died in a car accident.

Tony was on the terrace when Thor landed. He was wearing the suit, only the face plate retreated, and Steve was right next to him, Bruce on his other side.

‘Anthony Stark,’ Thor said, eyeing him with blatant suspicion after he had straightened himself up, sparks still running over his body. ‘You are in your armour. That is a strange welcoming for a friend.’

‘That would be because you didn’t exactly announce yourself like any _polite_ person would,’ Tony said. He didn’t have the patience for this. He didn’t have patience left for Blondy point blank. ‘And I don’t remember sending you an invite.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ Thor said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Nevertheless, I think I’d like to see my brother now.’

‘Not happening, Sparkles,’ Tony said. ‘Sorry. Something else I can do for you – do you want a whopper to go or-‘

But Thor had just started striding towards them, and yup, his eyes were turning white again. No good sign.

But then again, if Tony had understood Nat correctly, Thor’s emotions had to have gotten out of control already in Norway for him to be able to fly without his hammer.

Tony raised his repulsors.

‘So if you don’t want to get your face blasted-‘

‘LOKI!’ Thor shouted, not at Tony but at the tower in general, the sparking increasing, and he kept coming nearer. ‘I know you’re behind this! _Show_ yourself!’

‘Oh, fuck this,’ Tony said and shot.

Somehow, Tony would have expected Thor to be slower. All the muscle suggested it.

But no, Thor wasn’t slow.

He evaded Tony’s blast without effort and then suddenly was very close and then Thor’s hand connected with Tony’s chest, and the next moment, Tony’s body convulsed with a blinding, maddening pain, at the same time a feeling of white hot _aggression_. For a while, that was all that existed in the world.

…

He heard himself gasping for air.

He was lying on the ground.

He heard other people shout, and then a very loud, very angry roar.

His limbs were feeling _immensely_ heavy. Tony blinked but he couldn’t get his vision to clear.

‘Tony,’ he heard. ‘Tony, talk to me! Are you okay?’

A hand on his face.

Steve’s voice.

His chest hurt so terribly, he got no air, he got no air-

‘Jarvis! Get him out of the suit, _now_!’

He felt the suit disassemble around him, and was left cold and shivering on the ground. His chest burning like it was on fire, and still no air, no air-

‘It’s okay,’ he heard Steve say, one arm was put under his legs, one arm wrapping around his back. The Cap’s voice was calm, soothing. Tony was lifted up, pressed against Steve’s chest. Steve was warm. ‘I’ve got you, Tony. I’ve got you. It’s okay, you’re going to be alright.’

Distantly, Tony noticed that the ever-present anger was gone from Steve’s voice.

As he was carried through the tower, being jostled because Steve was running, Tony wondered where the anger had gone. It had to have gone somewhere.

*

At least, Tony’s heart hadn’t been damaged any further by that damn magical electric shock. That was something, Tony supposed.

Not much though.

Tony had discharged himself from his own medical facilities as soon as possible, after making sure that the arc reactor was still working as it should, and after letting them treat the burns and give him pain medication.

All in all, he had been lucky – the suit had absorbed most of the charge. Theoretically, Tony shouldn’t have been touched by it at all.

Only Thor’s powers definitely had grown since 2012. And Tony’s faceplate had not been up.

Why the fuck had he been so stupid to retreat his faceplate? They all should know by now that angry Thor and electricity was a dreadful combination.

… right, because Thor was still supposed to be a _team mate_.

Or something.

Tony had, admittedly, watched the CCTV footage several times, the one of the Hulk redecorating Brooklyn Bridge with the God of Thunder. It was a strange, shifted repeat of the video footage of Loki getting smashed (which seemed a lot less funny, in retrospect) and maybe had felt just a tiny little bit satisfying.

After Thor had eventually regained consciousness, and after some pointed threats delivered by the Nat herself, he at least had retreated to Norway again. So Tony almost biting the dust had been good for _something_.

It wasn’t much of a comfort that Loki would get his way about this. And considering the fallout the eventual revelation would undoubtedly cause (erm, so, your brother has died (third time this month, I _know_ , but this time for good (we think)), and we haven’t told you), Tony was kind of surprised Nat had backed it.

Of all of them, she had the fewest reasons to do Loki this favour. Tony wasn’t even sure that she had Fury’s or Coulson’s consent in this.

But she had backed it. With surprising determination.

She was a strange woman, that one.

Tony rubbed his eyes, looked at the partly melted metal of his chess plate. He was in his workshop, trying to make sense of what Thor had done (at least on a _physical_ level because again, the charge should _not_ have touched Tony), emptying a bottle of scotch while he was at it. Two days had passed since the incident, but Loki’s heart was still beating.

Tony hadn’t made sure personally, hadn’t actually dared walking into that room anymore. From what Steve had said, it hadn’t exactly gotten prettier to watch.

He lifted the bottle to his lips, tilted it back. Splattered a little because he took too large a gulp.

*

Steve found him later upstairs at the bar, shaking. Tony’s body had started doing that at some point without any apparent reason, and then his breathing had gotten shorter, and he had started feeling cold.

He had hoped that putting some physical distance between himself and the melted armour and drinking more scotch would take care of the problem. He should have known that with his panic attacks, alcohol was rather hit or miss than a fix-it-all.

This time, it had been a clear miss, not calming Tony at all but adding nausea instead. He kept rubbing at his chest, thinking of the pain of the electric shock, which made his breath shorter in return.

And the memory of Thor’s white eyes, and Tony had _felt_ his wrath, had felt his wrath coursing through his body as much as the electricity, probably because it hadn’t been so much electricity as _magic_. And if even mortal totally-non-magic Tony could feel the emotion in the sparks, how must Loki have experienced…

He pressed his eyes shut, his chest hurt, and the memory of Howard’s heavy hand was already there, how the most terrible and scariest thing about the violence had always been the anger, the anger that Tony had been able to read from Howard’s body language, his posture, the hard face, the way he had grabbed Tony at the collar of his shirt then-

‘Tony,’ he heard. ‘Are you – should I get you to medical?’

Tony shook his head and, with effort, opened his eyes.

Steve was standing next to him, hovering, evidently unsure whether touching was okay, but the rest of the room was blurry, riddled with dark blotches.

Tony’s body felt tense, breath still coming too short. Hand pressed against his chest, over the heart. It felt like something was sitting on him, a weight crushing him down.

He shook his head again.

‘… be fine in a moment,’ he said, but the world was turning around him. ‘Just need…’

And then he was sitting on the floor, his head between his knees, and someone was holding him, telling him to breath. Counting with him. He had no idea how he had ended up there.

In any case, it took a while until he could make his breathing match the counting.

‘Panic attack?’ Steve asked. He still didn’t sound angry. His voice was soft instead. Tony still wondered where that anger had gone.

‘Talking fancy, eh? Didn’t know… you’d even know that term, grandpa.’

‘Very funny,’ Steve said. ‘I was in the war, Tony, the big one. We might not have called it that back then, but I’ve talked a soldier or two down from a panic attack in my days.’

Tony laughed hoarsely. Of course – Steve would do that, wouldn’t he? Always so heroic.

‘Is this… because of Thor?’ Steve asked, almost cautiously.

Tony shook his head. Then nodded. Then shook his head again.

‘Not really,’ said he. ‘I don’t know. Fuck this.’

He freed himself from Steve’s heroic clutch, struggled to his feet, went behind the bar, looking for a bottle of gin. His hands still shaking. His vision still narrowed.

‘Are you sure you should keep drinking?’ Steve asked.

Screw-up. Trash.

‘I’m sure I _want_ to,’ Tony said, took the bottle he was looking for down. ‘What’s it to you?’

A pause.

‘When’s the last time you slept, Tony?’

Can’t even take care of yourself. No wonder Pepper left.

‘Fuck sleep.’

He poured himself gin, splashing some on the countertop.

‘Does this re-awaken fond memories for you too?’ he asked, already knowing he was going down a bad road but once more somehow unable to stop himself. ‘But I’m sure Howard was not the panic attack type, that… that would be been showing _weakness_ , and that... I’m sure he always… always made it look like he just en-enjoyed drinking. And he… I never learned to hold my liquor the way he could, you know? You’d th-think with my reputation… but he – he was unrivalled. Heh. Another legacy where I fall short, eh?’

Silence. He gulped down the gin. It burned, so that was something. His chest still so tight.

‘Are you really blaming Howard now for getting drunk all the time?’ Steve asked. And there the anger was back, even if veiled. Tony had almost missed it.

Well, not _really_ though.

He laughed, poured himself more gin.

‘No, I ju-just _told_ you that I don’t drink because of the same reasons he did,’ said he. ‘Or maybe he drank to escape too, but he escaped other things, you know? His f-fucking disappointing family for once. Me, especially.’

_Maybe if you weren’t such a disappointment-_

He had said it only once. Only once.

After that one day when Tony had tried to stand between him and his mum.

Howard had just yanked him out of the way.

That heavy hand. Those blows, and he remembered wrapping his arms around his head, protecting his face, his ears.

_I promise, I’m going to change. I’m never going to touch a drop of alcohol again. This won’t ever happen again._

And then, just a few days afterwards:

 _Maybe if you weren’t such a disappointment, I wouldn’t_ have _to drink._

‘I’m…. I’m sure that’s not true,’ Steve said somewhere behind Tony. ‘That’s not true, Tony, you weren’t a disappointment to him, you _couldn’t_ have been. I knew him. And I know he wasn’t exactly the affectionate type, but-‘

Tony laughed again, swirled the gin in the tumbler.

‘Yeah, right,’ said he. ‘You _knew_ him. I forgot.’

He drank, turning his other hand and looking at the faded scars on the palm.

‘I’m sure that what he did was just a bit of good-old discipline. Like that one day he handed me that tool, he just taught me a _lesson_ then. Tough love. Building character. Well, voilà the character he built.’

He gestured at himself and put the glass back on the counter.

Steve was… suspiciously quiet behind him.

‘… what are you saying, Tony,’ he then said.

‘Nothing,’ said he and shook his head. ‘Forget it. Nothing at all.’

He rubbed his face again. He needed to stop talking. He needed more booze. He wanted to sleep. No, he never wanted to sleep again. Always nightmares, nightmares.

‘Thor has left me more messages,’ he said then. ‘Saying that he’s sorry, that he didn’t mean to hurt me. That he still can’t control his new powers very well.’

‘That’s… good?’ Steve said after a pause. He didn’t sound very convinced.

Hah.

Thor’s face as it had brightened at Loki’s smile during the video call. He had looked as if he genuinely _cared_. As if he hadn’t… with his own hands…

‘They’re always _sorry_ , Steve,’ Tony said, picking up his tumbler and draining it. His hand was shaking so much some of it spilt on his t-shirt.

Howard had sobbed, he remembered that. He had sobbed and had let Maria comfort him.

Piece of garbage.

You’re the same.

‘They’re always so fucking sorry,’ he said. ‘They say it won’t happen again, but it _does_.’

He wiped his eyes, surprised that his fingers came back wet.

‘Tony?’ Steve asked. His voice was small.

‘And then suddenly you’re standing at your parents’ funeral and part of you is _relieved,_ ’ Tony said, and breathed out. Stop _talking_. ‘Because you know in that moment that it is finally over. That he will never stumble into the house again, sloshed and furious because some business deal didn’t work out or because he stepped on chewing gum or something. That he will never grab you again before hitting you because his aim is off. You will never again sit in your room, scared _shitless_ , and listen to your parents fighting, and hearing something crash, and hearing your mother wail, and think, he’ll kill her, he’ll kill her. No. This will never happen again. They’re dead and it’s _over_.’

He put the tumbler back on the counter, carefully. It was loud in the silent room.

Shut the fuck _up_!

‘And you look at the caskets and know at the same time that he really _did_ kill your mum, just like you’ve feared he would,’ said he. ‘Not even in a fight. Just because she wasn’t worth it for him not to drink and drive, just because she wasn’t worth it for him not to speed. And the only reason you’re not in a casket too is because your parents liked to leave you at home because you are a screw-up. Because you ruin everything. Because you were fucking _lucky_. You got out because you were lucky and Maria didn’t because she wasn’t, and how is that fair? How is that fair, Steve?’

He knew what was coming. The usual. He didn’t even know why he had said anything. Steve was right – who wanted to listen to Tony’s whining?

But Steve didn’t answer for a while.

‘It isn’t,’ he said then. ‘Nothing about that sounds fair at all.’

And then, after a moment, ‘Tony, I swear I didn’t know that H-Howard…’

Tony shook his head again, then kneaded the bridge of his nose. His brain was valiantly trying to escape his skull, he was sure. This had been a mistake. Telling Steve had been a mistake. In the end, it would just lead to more excuses, he’d bet his fucking tower on that.

‘You couldn’t possibly have known.’

Steve really couldn’t have. Howard hadn’t even been in a relationship with Maria yet when Steve and he had been buddies.

‘Even so, I-‘

‘Stop,’ Tony said. ‘I didn’t say this to… whatever.’

He should have shut his stupid mouth. Damn the booze. Damn his headache. Damn the burns that were starting to hurt again now that the pain medication was wearing off. He sniffed, then poured himself more gin. What was he complaining about anyway? There were so many people out there who had had it so much worse, Steve and Loki included. Fuck, Loki was lying down there, with part of his lung gone, dying from his own body poisoning him. Tony – Tony was just a rich, spoilt brat wallowing in self-pity. If he hadn’t been so talented at getting in trouble, maybe he wouldn’t have earned so many bruises in the first place.

‘And yes, even though drunk driving killed my mum, I’m still drinking. And sometimes drinking and driving,’ he said. ‘So what does _that_ say about me, I wonder.’

‘… not what you think it does, I’m pretty sure,’ Steve said, his voice cautious.

Tony snorted.

‘We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,’ he said, and grinned at the Capsicle, who looked back at him, a little bewildered and not a little concerned.

The room around him was swaying. Maybe he shouldn’t have mixed booze with the pain meds after all. Marco had said that he really shouldn’t.

He also didn’t really care.

He was thinking the same thing when the next morning, he still very much hungover and not entirely sober yet, the alarm sounded because Doom had decided to make trouble again.

This time, Doom could have chosen better timing.

Yeah, okay, maybe drinking so much while being under heavy medication and then going off to fight doom bots had been a bit of a mistake, Tony thought, when one of those damned machines exploded in his face and he felt something penetrate the suit and pierce him through the thigh and the shoulder.

Maybe he shouldn’t have participated in this particular mission against the will of about _everyone_ after all. Maybe just this time, everyone had had a point. Maybe.

But he still didn’t really care.

And he didn’t stay conscious long enough to thoroughly ponder the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Tony...


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my, I'm at the end of my batch again - how did that happen? o_0 XD  
> Next batch is once again prewritten, but my beta will read the next Prestige batch first.
> 
> Because of a certain current obsession with certain furry creatures, I might or might not post an un-beta'd Lokitty crack fic somtime soon(ish). I'm still writing that tho, so no promises when.
> 
> And you're wonderful as always! I LOVE your comments!

Everyone was angry with him.

Tony kind of understood why, rationally. He had behaved irresponsibly again, and had endangered the mission.

He had also apparently lost a lot of blood while endangering the mission. Nat informed him coldly that he would have snuffed it, had help arrived only a few minutes later.

‘And then SHIELD could have stolen all my stuff,’ Tony said and grinned at her. ‘Makes me wonder why you didn’t delay the help a bit.’

Nat punched his bad leg for this.

And yup, that _hurt_.

Pepper, as to her, shouted at him. A lot. Then cried. She said that this all felt like the palladium poisoning all over again, like they were going in circles. Which of course they were. He was a hopeless fuck-up. Running in self-destructive circles was all he had ever learned to do. He was human garbage and she should just leave for good.

For some reason, telling Pepper that didn’t help.

‘It was the whole mess with Loki, wasn’t it?’ Rhodey simply asked, sitting with Tony at the small table in Tony’s hospital room while Tony was picking at his lunch. Dr Marco had finally allowed Tony to stand up and walk, but it hurt like hell and he didn’t get farther than the bathroom. With one arm still in a sling, he could also use only one crutch, which basically sucked. ‘Steve told me you’ve been drinking more ever since Thor turned up with him the first time.’

Tony drank his glass of water. He was nothing but thirsty these days.

And with any other person, he might have dodged the question, or said that it had just been an unfortunate sequence of unfortunate events. But Rhodey knew him too well – which meant that he also knew Tony’s very special brand of self-harm too well. Which meant that to claim that getting hurt had been completely coincidental and not at all _exactly_ what Tony had been aiming for… wouldn’t get him very far.

‘Thor reminds me of Howard,’ he simply said instead. ‘Loki reminds me of… well, me.’

There was a pause.

‘Well, shit,’ Rhodey commented eloquently.

‘Exactly,’ Tony agreed. At least with Rhodey, he didn’t have to elaborate.

Rhodey huffed, shifted in his seat in the way he did when he was trying to suppress anger.

‘I should have seen this,’ said he then. ‘I’m sorry, Tony.’

‘Don’t fucking apologise,’ Tony said. ‘This isn’t your fucking fault. It’s mine, everyone agrees.’

_Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking disappointment…_

Rhodey cocked his head at him at that, raising one eyebrow.

Tony fled his eyes.

‘Well, some of it,’ he conceded. ‘I’m going back to therapy now anyway.’

He shouldn’t even have been affected that much by the situation in the first place. He shouldn’t have let Loki’s death destabilise him like that. His mind shouldn’t be that fucking fragile.

‘Not like I have much choice, with Marco breathing down my neck,’ he added under his breath, and then said, ‘Don’t you dare subscribe me to an AA group again!’

Rhodey snorted.

‘Do you really think I’m going to make that mistake a second time?’ he asked. ‘You trying your hand at the twelve-step program is like pouring oil into fire. And I’m not even sure if your alcoholism is the oil or the fire.’

… he wasn’t wrong about that.

‘The program isn’t for everyone,’ Rhodey said gently. ‘If you’re in therapy, that’s good enough for me. And yes, Tony, I’m going to check.’

‘That’s not your fucking responsibility,’ Tony said.

‘No,’ Rhodey agreed. ‘It’s something I’m doing for you as a friend. As a friend, I’m also going to remove every single drop of alcohol from the tower, and yes, I know Bruce wasn’t thorough enough. You’re going to tell me about your secret stashes. About every single one. And I’m going to check in with you every day, and you’re not going to ignore any of my calls.’

Tony swallowed, looked at his lunch tray, the steak there, and the peas.

He considered saying that Rhodey was overreacting. He considered saying that this was none of Rhodey’s damn business and that Tony could do whatever he wanted with his life, including drinking himself into a coma.

He was so thirsty.

He nodded.

*

Steve let a few days pass until he came. Tony could have discharged himself by then – but he had been more or less serious about the whole getting help thing and he knew that it was better if somebody was watching over him during the first acute phase. He also knew that there were still some secret stashes of booze left he hadn’t yet had the guts to tell Rhodey about, and that if he left the medical facilities now, he would just go there and start the rodeo all over again because he was a fucking tragedy.

Because his mind was still racing in circling thoughts, because he was still having nightmares about Howard, because he was still feeling like a good-for-nothing piece of shit.

Steve had come with flowers because apparently that was a thing that Steve did when he was visiting sick people.

‘Nice thought that you didn’t bring any lilies,’ Tony said, staring at the bouquet that Steve was holding out to him and that he didn’t want to take because he still didn’t like being _handed_ things.

‘I know you don’t like the smell,’ Steve said and eventually put the bouquet down on the table instead of standing up and going looking for a vase. ‘You complain about it often enough.’

‘You’re angry,’ Tony stated.

Steve at first said nothing. Then he stood up and went looking for a vase after all.

After he had come back and while arranging the flowers in the vase, he said, ‘I was angry, yes. I also felt that was unhelpful. That’s why I decided to wait a bit before facing you in person.’

‘You’re still angry,’ Tony stated.

Steve’s lips thinned.

‘Well, a friend of mine almost died,’ he said and sat back down at the table. ‘I think it is excusable.’

Huh.

Okay.

So they were friends now, apparently.

Great – another person for Tony to hurt.

‘Joke’s on you, I was never in any real danger,’ Tony said.

‘You _were,_ ’ Steve said sharply. ‘Tony, don’t make light of this, you almost-‘

He broke off, shook his head, and then kneaded the bridge of his nose.

‘See?’ he said. ‘Unhelpful.’

Tony chuckled a little.

‘I’m mostly angry at myself,’ Steve said then. ‘I knew you were unwell. I knew you were sleep-deprived, drugged, drunk. I should never have let you come with us.’

‘I didn’t exactly give you a choice,’ Tony argued.

Steve shook his head again.

‘That’s a weak excuse,’ he said.

He turned the vase a bit in this direction, then in the other one.

‘Pepper was a mess,’ he said. ‘She blames herself for not having seen in time that you were going down that particular road again.’

Tony looked down, feeling his heart beat pick up.

‘Well, that’s certainly not helping,’ he murmured.

A pause.

Then Steve said, ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

He bit his lips.

‘I’m sorry.’

Tony swallowed, and nodded. He was thirsty again. He wanted a drink. He wanted a drink so much – just to… relieve some of this tension.

The shame.

Most of all, he wanted to forget that he had hurt Pepper again.

He hugged himself.

‘I’m getting help,’ he said, almost petulantly.

‘I know,’ Steve said. ‘Colonel Rhodes told me. I’m… glad. Thank you.’

Again, Tony nodded. Heart still pounding in his throat.

‘What I _wanted_ to say is I… didn’t even know about _that particular road,_ ’ Steve added. ‘Everyone else seems to know that you have these issues… and I just….’

He shook his head.

‘I’m not saying this right.’

Tony didn’t exactly want to encourage Steve to try. Talking with him about personal stuff was… slightly more awkward than doing the same with any other person.

A pause.

Then Steve said, more softly, ‘Loki is still alive.’

Tony flinched – nobody had said anything about Loki and he had known better than to ask. He had assumed the god had passed away in the meantime. He had hoped for it.

For fuck’s sake, for how long was this going to go _on_?

‘And nothing is certain yet but… at the moment, it looks like he’s getting better.’

Tony looked up, honestly confused.

There was a small, very tentative, smile on Steve’s lips. Something warm about his whole expression.

‘He might still crash,’ Steve said then, his voice hoarse for a moment, and his smile vanished. ‘You should know that. He’s… very weak, and there is still so much that could go wrong… Fulla and Marco are not at all sure that he will ever wake up. He… might not. And that’s why we didn’t tell you at first. You know, so not to get your hopes up for nothing when you’re already… dealing with your own issues.’

Read having screwed up majorly. Again.

And there the smile was back again. Just as tentative.

‘But it looks like his body is starting to seriously fight the infection,’ Steve said. ‘We’re not really sure why either – it seems like one of the drugs is finally working, but it’s not like we had some miraculous breakthrough or anything, he just…’

Steve shook his head.

‘Sickness has a logic of its own,’ Tony repeated Steve’s words from a few days back.

‘If there is logic to it, yes,’ Steve said, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘In any case, his fever has gone down a bit, infection rates too, and his vital signs are stronger now. His breathing got better too – Marco said that if he continues like that, they might be able to eventually take him off the additional oxygen.’

‘… so he might prove us wrong still,’ Tony said with a small smirk. ‘Like you did. What a resilient little _shit_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comments, you had a lot of creative ideas how to save Loki – I hope you aren’t disappointed by the sort of anticlimactic way I resolved this plot, but in any case, I stand by my decision. It was important for me that in this case, there is no medical miracle, no great discovery they need to make, but that Loki simply pulls through even though he could easily not have. I wanted his experience to parallel Steve’s in that way and to parallel Steve’s reflections on illness – that sometimes, there is no good reason someone survives an illness or dies and that how well you recover from illness is a very individual thing that can never be truly controlled or predicted.  
> And of course, just because Loki pulls through, his various medical issues are far from resolved. I mean the 'not a quick fix-it' tag.
> 
> I know that (my brand of medical bullshit aside) that’s a disturbingly realistic take on illness, and so (prompted by a reader) I elaborated on the trigger warnings in the notes of the first chapter a bit to give new readers the chance to be warned. In general, this fic tends to gravitate towards the realistic side of many issues (definitely also abuse), no matter the many fantastic elements, so take care. Remember that your self-care is always more important.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! ^^  
> With 4 chapters this time! The next 3 batches (including this one) are all gonna be rather short, but the good news is, they are all already beta'd! So there won't be long waiting periods between them.
> 
> If I haven't said it here yet:  
> \- I use they/them pronouns  
> \- If you ever feel in the mood for creating fan art or writing a fic inspired by one of my fics, you never have to ask me for permission. Just go for it! Obviously, I'd love to know, but only because I'm a sucker for this kind of flattery XD
> 
> Also, I love y'all! Remember to be kind to yourselves!
> 
> Previously on "I Am Yours":  
> Thor accidentally kills Loki with lightning, and then Loki not so accidentally kills himself with overexertion - Thor drags him back each time though. After having burnt down Asgard so to kill Hela, Thor has moved with the survivors to New Asgard in Norway. Loki is theoretically "recovering" in Stark's tower but actually dying from an infection in his left arm because he refuses to amputate said arm. He has also lost part of his right hand to the tesseract and is missing his pinkie and his ring finger there. At the moment, he is slowly getting better, the infection rates are going down, but he hasn't woken up yet.  
> Meanwhile, Tony, having been abused too as a kid (by Howard), is coping extremely well and almost kills himself on a mission while being drunk. He subsequently agrees to try and go dry, which isn't a lot of fun tbh.  
> Also, everyone is triggered in their own very special way, and Thor is suspicious because he hasn't been allowed to talk to Loki for so long because Loki had forbidden the Avengers to tell Thor that he was dying.  
> But of course, everything is going to be just fine.

Loki’s recovery wasn’t quick, nor was it obvious at first. Yes, the infection rates were going down slowly, and there were signs that his detoxification organs were starting to work in earnest again, but the god was still lying there, his skin waxy and yellowish, his breathing wheezing and laboured even with the oxygen mask. His relative health a fragile system that might derail anytime. He was yet to wake up.

Dying could demand patience, yes. But healing could demand that even more so. And everyone was aware that Loki would probably never make a full recovery in any case.

Steve was drawing him again, the pencil on the paper loud in the silent room. The symphony he had been playing to Loki had ended, and Steve didn’t feel like choosing another piece of music to play yet. He bit his lip, and glanced up at Loki, at that very characteristic jaw line, tried to catch it on paper then, distracting himself from his thoughts.

It was strange, drawing Loki, that body transformed by sickness. Steve knew how this transformation worked, knew it intimately, and he had felt so ugly back then, and Bucky had kissed his face, his hands as if he were in any way desirable.

Now Steve was sitting on the other side of that gaze, sketching a body that was gaunt and pale, hair dull, eyes sunken, and for the first time, he felt he could understand Bucky a little. Because no matter how frail, this body held an unmistakeable beauty.

He looked up at Loki once more.

And he stilled.

Blinked.

He stood up, walked closer to the sleeping god.

Was that… no, he wasn’t seeing things, was he? Wasn’t he?

What on _earth_ …

At some point, when Steve hadn’t been looking, Loki had… changed.

And it was not a glamour hiding his sickness, or injures – no, Loki was looking just as awful as before. It was nothing drastic either, rather dozens of little details that… the bone structure had shifted just a bit. Or no, Steve corrected himself, tracing Loki’s jaw line with his gaze. The bones had stayed the same – it was the _cartilage_ that had transformed. The way the meagre remains of body fat were distributed beneath the skin. Loki was still as haggard, but his lines had nonetheless grown just a little… softer. His chin just a little less prominent. The ears had shrunken just a bit. The hairline had shifted, the eyebrows had thinned and changed their shape. Steve glanced at Loki’s left hand – no big change there either. Maybe it had gotten slimmer, maybe the fingers had shortened. But then again, Loki had always had elegant, soft hands.

He heard the door open behind him, steps that were coming closer, then stilled.

Silence.

‘I think you should leave, Steve Rogers,’ he heard Fulla then say calmly.

He turned to her – her lips were pressed into a hard line, her face stiff. She was not pleased by this, Steve thought, but not entirely surprised either.

‘What has-,‘ he began.

‘None of your concern,’ Fulla said just as calmly. ‘And certainly no concern of anyone else. Now please go.’

Don’t tell anybody about this, she didn’t say.

This was a secret, he understood in that moment. A _shameful_ one.

After having been thrown out, Steve wandered the corridors aimlessly, feeling confused, untethered. Had this just been some accidental magic, or a glamour? But why would Loki _do_ that, weakened as he was? In fact, Steve severely doubted that Loki was capable of deliberately doing anything – until now, there were no signs of him regaining consciousness.

When he came back later that day, the change had been reverted, as if nothing had happened at all. Loki was lying in the bed, sleeping and breathing laboriously, and looked resolutely and unmistakably male.

Maybe Steve had remembered it wrong? Even that afternoon, Loki could have been mistaken for a guy after all. He had still looked androgynous, rather than feminine. And yes, sickness transformed people – but not quite like that. Not quite like that.

Steve looked at Loki, wondering whether he was looking at a glamour right now, at one of Fulla’s making.

*

When Steve arrived at Loki’s hospital room the next day, the chair next to the bed was already occupied.

Tony was sitting in it, bent over Loki’s right hand, scanning it with some sort of machine he was holding.

Dr Marco had discharged Tony a few days ago, but this was the first time Steve saw him visit Loki. Apart from that one conversation during which Steve had told him that Loki was still alive, they had not talked about the god at all. Tony had stayed carefully away from the medical facilities, had not mentioned their resident patient even once, and Steve hadn’t been sure whether it was safe to bring up the topic.

Tony had been so pale, so still, when they had gotten him out of the armour. So cold.

Steve sometimes forgot that – he had called Tony a man in a tin suit once, and it had been meant as an insult at the time (he had been so _stupid_ ), but sometimes he forgot that he had also been _right_.

Thor was a god (and a bully), Bruce had the Hulk, Steve had the serum, Nat was… he didn’t even know what Nat was exactly but she evidently could handle herself, and Clint was a trained spy and assassin. But Tony… Tony was just a middle-aged super-smart guy with basic martial arts training.

In contrast to them, he was so fragile.

And it was easy to forget that because of all the bravado and the genius and because of the armour, but when Thor had shocked Tony by accident and Tony had just _crumbled_ right then and there, Steve had remembered. And when Tony had lain on the ground in the growing puddle of his own blood, Steve had been made _very_ aware.

Of the grey strands in Tony’s beard, in his hair. Of the worry lines in his face. Of the fact that an aging body with a pre-existing heart condition couldn’t take trauma and blood-loss as well as a young and healthy one.

Tony looked better by now, but still exhausted, with deep bruises under his eyes. The left arm in a sling, the right leg placed on the second chair of the room, probably so to elevate it. Lines of pain in his face.

‘Come here, Cap,’ he said distractedly, thus implicitly acknowledging Steve’s presence. ‘I could use your assistance.’

Steve walked up to him, wondering what Tony might ever need _his_ help for.

‘Take his wrist,’ Tony said. ‘Turn it. Yeah, like that.’

He moved the scanning device up and down the limb. The device was shaking… because Tony’s hand was shaking. Of course – alcohol withdrawal.

‘What are you doing?’ Steve asked.

‘Getting enough data so I can build a virtual model of his hand and forearm,’ Tony said, eyes on the screen of the device. ‘Mhm – I think I have to do more tests on his nerve conduction. I’m getting some pretty weird results here.’

‘What do you need that for?’ Steve asked. ‘And do you even have his permission?’

Tony shrugged.

‘It’s hardly invasive,’ he said. ‘And I’m still pissed off at him, so I don’t care. I’m gonna take away one of his excuses.’

And he looked at Steve briefly, grinning cockily, before his eyes went back to the readout of the scanner, his face turning serious again from one moment to the other.

‘Excuses?’ Steve asked.

‘For trying to off himself,’ Tony said casually. Only a week ago, Steve would have interpreted the tone as indifferent. Now, he was sure this wasn’t exactly it. ‘I’m going to create a prosthesis for his right hand. And not just any prosthesis either. I’m going to create the _best_ one.’

Steve looked down at the mangled limb he was turning this way and that for Tony. It was hard to get used to the shape. To part of the hand just… missing.

‘A prosthesis so he won’t feel _useless_ anymore,’ he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. ‘Because it’s always about his _usefulness_ , isn’t it?’

Tony eyed him.

‘I think he made it rather clear that to him, it is,’ he said.

And it was, wasn’t it? Rather die with the arm than live without it, without being able to fight, to cast spells. And yes, Steve could empathise. Of course he could. He had thought along similar lines once. This wish to stop being nothing but a burden. To be able to care for oneself instead. He had felt like a leech sucking the blood of those close to him, of the world.

A parasite. Unworthy to live, huh? And what ideology does that remind you of?

Yeah, poisonous thoughts. And yet he still had them. In quiet hours, he was still making those calculations whether he was useful enough. Whether the resources that had been spent on him were outweighed by the lives he had saved.

‘Mind your words when Fulla is around,’ Steve said. ‘She doesn’t react well to anyone implying that this was veiled suicidality. It seems to be a cultural taboo.’

‘And Nat barely escaped being hoelmganged for suggesting Loki had tried to break it, she told me,’ Tony said. ‘Something about the gods not being allowed to cut some string themselves, anger the Norns, whatever.’

Steve nodded, turned the arm a bit more at Tony’s command. The part where the mutilated hand connected with the wrist felt strange underneath his fingers. As if bones had shifted the wrong way and had created a sudden sharp curve. An edge, almost.

‘Apparently, that’s why the right to refuse treatment is so important to them,’ Steve said. ‘Fulla said something along those lines. That a long life doesn’t always save you from unhappiness, and that to let the Norns cut your threat must always be allowed. She seems to have allowed a few warriors to bleed out on the battle field in her lifetime.’

‘Yeah, because dying from battle wounds is always honourable, and so the suicide candidates liked to wage wars even more than the rest. Which is one fucked up way of dealing with suicidality, that’s for sure,’ Tony said. ‘It doesn’t exactly help that Loki’s infection actually _counts_ as a battle wound, as far as Fulla is concerned. I mean, it all adds up in a way, but _fuck, man_. Nothing about this is helping this little shit survive.’

He shook his head.

Steve hummed, letting his eyes rest on Tony now rather than on the hand he was holding. Tony was still looking down at the readout. His lips were chapped as if he had been worrying them, he was tapping rhythmically on the floor with his good foot. His eyes, even though fixed on the screen, looked restless.

He might not have talked about Loki to _Steve_ , but as it seemed Tony was pretty well informed regardless, so he had to have talked to _someone_. And he hadn’t exactly been idle.

‘I’m sorry,’ Steve said.

Tony didn’t raise his eyes, but his face twitched just a little.

‘Whatever for, Capsicle?’ he asked. ‘Shaming us all with your perfect ass?’

For many things. For all the assumptions I’ve made about you. For not seeing your alcohol abuse for what it really is. For being so gullible about Howard.

‘For saying that bullshit about defusing the bomb when we first met,’ Steve said. ‘The whole thing about the self-sacrifice and all.’

Tony’s lips twitched upwards, but almost nervously.

‘Language, Steve.’

‘Why am I always the only one getting reprimanded for cursing?’ Steve wondered aloud. ‘Anyway, it was bullshit, there is no other way to call it.’

‘I dunno,’ Tony said, and then the scanning device finally powered down. ‘You might have had a point. There is very little that I do that isn’t about me and my ego, you and I both know that.’

‘Yeah, and then when the Helicarrier was coming crashing down, you risked your life without a thought in order to save us,’ Steve said dryly. ‘And when the nuke was flying towards New York, you took it through the portal.’

‘And if I hadn’t taken it through the portal, I _definitely_ would have died,’ Tony said, pocketing the scanning device. ‘Along with everyone else in New York City. Simple calculation of probability of survival.’

‘Bull,’ Steve said. ‘You did both out of exactly the same reason I threw myself over that fake hand grenade during army training, planning to contain the explosion with my own body.’

This time, Tony’s eyebrows rose, and he leant himself back, looking at Steve with false indifference, his head cocked.

‘Comparing me, former merchant of death, to you, the virtuous patriot?’ he said. ‘Don’t let the press hear that. Alright, I’ll buy – since apparently you know my mind better than I do, what _was_ the reason I took the nuke through the portal?’

_He’s dying because nobody gave a damn, because his health doesn’t matter. Because it’s okay to hurt him and then carry on as if nothing had happened._

_She died just because she wasn’t worth it for him not to drink and drive, just because she wasn’t worth it for him not to speed._

_He had felt like a leech sucking the blood of those close to him. A parasite. Unworthy to live, huh? And what ideology does that remind you of?_

‘You think you’re not worth it,’ Steve said and shrugged. ‘You think it wouldn’t be a great loss if you ceased to exist. And if you died because you went on a mission inebriated, drugged and sleep-deprived, what would it matter in the end? Maybe the world would be even better off without you, and you, you’d finally be done with it all. No more having to convince yourself to stand up in the morning. No more having to convince yourself you’re more than a waste of resources.’

Tony’s face twitched, and then he looked away, swallowed.

For the first time, Steve thought he really and truly understood why Tony had spoken in such a hard, cold way about Loki before. It was the way one spoke to the mirror.

It was seldom kind.

‘It’s something the three of us have in common, I guess,’ Steve said and laid Loki’s hand back on the blanket.

He hadn’t said that much of the truth to anyone in a very long time. After all, nobody wanted to hear it.

‘Who would have thought?’ Tony said, but he sounded slightly hoarse.

And then, ‘But why _you_?’

His voice was low, disbelieving. As if he genuinely didn’t understand.

Steve had to laugh a little. At least, he wasn’t the only one hopelessly blinded by his prejudices.

‘How could I _not_ , Tony?’ he said. ‘I told you, remember? Before the serum, I was sick, all the time. I was weak, disabled. I was sure not to live to the age of fifty, probably not even to the age of twenty. My dad left us when I was seven, and my mum died because she contracted tuberculosis when she was visiting me in the hospital. How could I not… why do you think I wanted to get into the army in the first place? Not because I thought I’d _survive_. I just wanted to be useful one last time. For the first time. Thoughts like that don’t disappear just because…’

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed.

‘I know you don’t think about me this way,’ Steve said. ‘But it’s still part of me.’

And what an important part of him it still was. Sometimes, he felt as if in a stranger’s body, much too big for him. He bumped his head on door cases because he thought himself shorter than he was. When he went shopping for clothes, he at first often chose clothing several sizes too small. He still broke pencils sometimes because he applied too much force during drawing. And sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, not sure anymore where his body ended, where it began. And nobody there to hold him, to remind him.

Sometimes, he felt as if his body had been stolen from him, and he had been stuffed into another’s.

Those were the worst moments. When he genuinely felt like he was losing himself. Like he _had_ lost himself. Like he was losing _everything_.

Not all days were like that. And it got better, gradually.

Still.

‘Yeah, well, that’s certainly not the Captain America my father told me about,’ Tony said, his voice trying very hard to sound closed-off but staying hoarse instead.

‘I bet it isn’t,’ Steve said. ‘I doubt that’s a part of me Howard would ever have acknowledged.’

He had been thinking a lot about Howard these past days. How to reconcile the man he had known with the abusive drunkard Tony had described. And the treacherous thoughts had been there – that Steve couldn’t have been so very wrong about him, and that he would have seen it if Howard had had these tendencies… that Howard had been a good man, a friend. _His_ friend.

‘You know,’ Tony said, cocking his head even more and supporting it with his hand, the index at his temple. ‘When I told you the truth about him, I would have bet this entire tower on you calling me a liar.’

As if he had read Steve’s mind.

‘A pity,’ Steve said, and smiled cautiously. ‘There go my chances of finally procuring some real estate and becoming one of those big-shot capitalists.’

This time, the twitch upwards of Tony’s lips was more sincere.

‘I will admit it was tempting,’ Steve conceded then. It had been. Very much so. ‘But after you… you told me off for… for wanting to tell Thor about Loki’s illness… I did some reading about this kind of thing then. Abusive relationships, I mean. Do you happen to know what almost all good sources on the internet say?’

Tony blinked.

‘Man, not only you’ve actually _listened_ to me but you’ve also finally figured out google?’ he asked. ‘Now you’re really blowing my mind, grandpa.’

‘Very funny,’ Steve said, and shook his head. ‘In any case, the sites and forums all agree on one thing: believe the abuse survivor. When they say it has happened, it’s almost never a lie, and yet the probability is very high that no one will believe them. Or maybe they are believed, but people will blame them. Because apparently, that’s something that people _do_.’

His felt his jaw tense. It had hurt, confronting himself with that. With what he _himself_ had done.

And what kind of ‘hero’ did _that_ make him?

A hero who stood up for the bullies?

Right.

He knew that kind.

There was silence, then Tony chuckled.

‘Okay,’ he said.

‘And I’ve been talking to Colonel Rhodes,’ Steve said, feeling his mood sink further. ‘He… does not have a good opinion of Howard Stark. To put it mildly. It was… a very sobering conversation.’

Tony grimaced.

‘Yeah, I suppose he got to know the old man a little,’ he said. ‘I met Rhodey when I started college. I was fifteen then, that was still more than a year before the car accident and… you know, Howard visited, and then I spent some time at home during the holidays and came back with… well, Rhodey was better than most at spotting the bruises. And then Rhodey spent some time back at my home because I invited him. Let’s say… there were… incidents.’

That was roughly what Colonel Rhodes had said too, only he had been a lot less casual about it.

Confronted with Colonel Rhodes’ frustrated anger, the soldier actually trembling with rage when he had been talking about Howard, Steve had had no choice really but to accept that his own image of Howard had been… well, false. A mask maybe, or something that he had wanted to see in Howard but that had never actually been there. Idealisation – because finally there had been someone who had considered Steve interesting, useful, who had looked at him and seen not weakness but strength.

And when Steve had searched his memories then… had Howard ever actually been interested in _him_? Or had Captain America been the one he had wanted?

What had the sick boy Steve Rogers been to Howard beyond a science experiment?

And Steve had found out that he… was not at all sure. He should have been if Howard had really been that much of a good friend, that much of a good man.

In retrospect, Steve didn’t even know if his memories of Howard were correct, or just a pretty nostalgic fiction about the past. A fiction that he had chosen to believe in because he was missing those times so painfully, those times when he hadn’t lost everything yet, when he hadn’t lost Bucky yet.

Howard had been friendly, sociable, and much more agreeable to be around than Tony was, yes. They had gotten along in a way that couldn’t be reduced to Steve’s usefulness. This Steve was sure he remembered correctly.

But Tony had been the one who had stood between Thor and Loki at a point in time when Loki hadn’t been even remotely useful to anyone anymore. When he had been nothing but a dying body.

Tony had been the one who had suspected the abusive relationship between Loki and Thor before anybody else had (except for Nat maybe).

Would Howard have suspected it?

In all probability, even if he had, he would have taken _Thor’s_ side, wouldn’t he have?

‘So…,’ Steve said then. ‘How about you get to punch me in the face once for each time I defended Howard against you in the past?’

Tony… stared at him, which made Steve duck his head awkwardly, scratch his neck. Maybe he had overstepped.

‘I’m sorry, maybe that’s a stupid idea, I just-‘

‘I’d break my hand on your jaw, Steve,’ Tony said then abruptly. ‘Repeatedly. And you’d not even get bruised in the process. As an apology, that’s not only a stupid but a truly _dreadful_ suggestion.’

Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

‘God, you must really consider me an idiot, Tony,’ he said, only half-joking. ‘I was thinking of you punching me while wearing the armour. _Obviously_.’

Tony… stared at him some more.

‘Oh,’ he then said as if that possibility hadn’t even occurred to him.

Steve rubbed his eyes in frustration. Yes, Tony considered him a moron. Great. But not entirely unwarranted, he supposed.

‘I could make Jarvis count the instances, as far as he is able to,’ Tony said then, sounding sceptical. ‘But I can already tell you that it would be a _whole_ lot of punches.’

Steve shrugged.

‘It’d only be fair,’ he said. ‘I bet it felt like a punch in the face every time.’

More staring.

‘Huh,’ Tony then said. ‘It actually did, come to think of it. And I have enough experience with both to make the comparison.’

Another pause, and it stretched.

At least, Steve had made the guy speechless for once. It was hard enough.

‘Okay, you know what, I’ll… think about it,’ Tony said then. ‘This probably doesn’t say anything good about me, but to be perfectly honest, the offer is… _very_ tempting.’

*

‘All murder'd – for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits, scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp; allowing him a breath, a little scene, to monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; infusing him with self and vain conceit, as if this flesh which walls about our life were brass impregnable; and, humour'd thus, comes at the last, and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell, king!’

Steve paused.

‘Huh,’ he said.

He was back to reading Shakespeare to Loki, the first of the kings plays he had avoided until now because he had imagined them to be dull, to be honest. He had never understood the fascination for political intrigues so many people shared.

It had seemed removed from life for him, and from his own experiences of how politics worked. The Second World War had been a different, an uglier and at the same time much more banal truth than some Game of Thrones or House of Cards or whatever show Tony wanted him to watch next.

And there was a kind of nasty satisfaction many people, notably online, reacted with to these brutal stories. A bloody-minded pleasure that Steve didn’t appreciate at all – maybe because he had seen too much very real brutality in his life.

Until recently, he would have put Tony in the same pot with people like these.

Now he winced at the thought.

Even his assumptions about Shakespeare…

He found that the characters and their problems, however privileged they were, were astonishingly… relatable. The ideas Shakespeare presented astonishingly timeless. In contrast to that TV show Game of Thrones that seemed so strangely cold to him, Richard II was… very human, all around. Nobody was really evil there, and everyone was _very_ flawed.

‘Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood with solemn reverence,’ he read on. ‘Throw away respect, tradition, form, and ceremonious duty; for you have but mistook me all this while. I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, how can you say to me I am a king?’

Okay. So those characters were _very_ relatable then.

‘How indeed?’

The voice was croaky but unmistakeable.

Steve looked up.

Loki’s eyes were open and clear. His gaze was not fixed on anything particular though. He looked, if anything, pensive.

‘Loki?’ Steve asked. ‘You’re awake?’

They had removed the oxygen mask a couple of days ago and had replaced it with a nasal cannula, but Loki had shown no sign of regaining consciousness since then.

‘What are you reading to me this time, my good captain?’ Loki asked back.

Awake, and definitely aware. He even recognised Steve. He remembered Steve having read to him before. This was, Steve knew, a _very_ good sign, and deep in his belly, something was hopping. They had been warned to expect confusion, more amnesia, and other kinds of neurological damage. They had been warned not to expect Loki to wake up at all.

‘Richard II, by William Shakespeare,’ Steve said.

‘Another playwright, I gather?’

‘Yes.’

‘And is this the beginning of the play?’

‘No, we are at about the middle,’ Steve said.

Loki nodded, his gaze wandering about the room.

‘I have missed quite a lot of it then. You will have to start again at the beginning, I’m afraid.’

Steve’s smile widened.

‘With pleasure,’ he said. ‘So you like it?’

The god just hummed.

‘I’m _hungry,_ ’ he said, as if he were surprised of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richard II is marvellous.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhh - so many comments!  
> Thank you!!!!!  
> This is a very short one, I know ^^ - but it made sense to me to end the chapter there.

Loki accepted wordlessly the fact that it was growing more and more probable that he would live.

According to Marco, he had simply nodded when they had told him, nothing more.

He cooperated, to a certain extent. He continued to allow them to treat him, and started actually eating now that his appetite was back.

Well, or at least he ate more than he had before.

He accepted that Dr Sanchez regularly came by for conversations, for psych evaluations as she called them. Evaluations that were there to make sure he wasn’t a threat anymore and in order to find out more about Thanos. That was the official story, the lie woven to reassure Loki, as absurd as that sounded.

He consented to them.

He did all the breathing exercises, and the exercises Fulla and Marco prescribed to build up his strength and he was careful not to overexert himself. He slept a lot.

And talked little.

Very little, in fact. He could spend several days in a row without stringing more than four words together.

He could also spend very long stretches of time without doing anything really. Steve brought him books but Loki didn’t read them. He slept, he spent hours looking at the ceiling, or turned to his side, looking at the wall.

It resembled the days after the video call with Thor a bit, except this time, Loki reacted when Steve said his name. As soon as you wanted something of him, he tried to give it, be it playing cards, answering more questions concerning Thanos, listening to Steve reading Shakespeare. Even just talking about the music Steve was playing to him, or about the plays.

He wasn’t very enthusiastic about it, but he made an honest effort nonetheless.

As soon as one made no demand, his gaze drifted off, and his interest in the world around him waned.

His skin colour improved steadily, losing its yellowish tint, but he still looked perpetually tired. He didn’t ask why Thor wouldn’t come visit him, but at one point asked when he would be allowed to leave for New Asgard.

When Steve said that for the moment, it would be better if Loki stayed here, he only nodded and didn’t question that further.

*

Loki was a very close listener if for once something did manage to catch his interest. He didn’t comment on what he heard and at first sight, you might have thought that he wasn’t paying attention at all, but by now Steve recognised the look he got when he didn’t want to miss a single word.

And whether he admitted it or not (he didn’t), William Shakespeare had definitely caught his interest. Or at least _Richard II_ had.

When Steve read the last line, Loki hummed.

‘What is it?’ Steve asked.

‘It is curious how different Midgardian literature is,’ Loki said. ‘On Asgard, a story would not be told this way.’

Steve closed the book.

‘How would it be told then?’

‘It would not be so… undecided,’ Loki said. ‘In this play, I do not know whether to cheer on Richard’s usurper or to condemn him.’

‘Is that decision always so easy in life then?’ Steve asked.

‘Isn’t it?’ Loki said, an eyebrow raised. ‘If not, then why do the Avengers exist at all? But in any case, everyone will _pretend_ that the decision is easy. And a play is about that, isn’t it? About what we pretend.’

‘A good play should be more – it should represent life in all its complexity,’ Steve said, and Loki laughed a little.

‘You make my point,’ Loki said, and it took Steve a moment to understand what Loki meant – that apparently, the entire approach to literature was different on Asgard.

‘So does that mean that you don’t like those plays?’ Steve asked, cocking his head at Loki.

Loki didn’t answer, blanking his face carefully.

‘ _Henry IV_ would be the next one,’ Steve said. ‘Do you want me to read it to you?’

After a moment of hesitation, Loki said, ‘Read _Richard II_ to me another time first.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the frostshield in this might actually rather be a Loki/Shakespeare/Steve or a Loki/literature/Steve. I know. Frostshakespeareshield? Shakesfrostshield? Captain Frostshake? Frostshieldbard? I take suggestions.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter is the reason for the title of this fic. Well, for the first part of the title - Harley Quinn is totally at fault when it comes to the second part.
> 
> And I love your suggestions for the Steve Rogers/literature/Loki ship XD

‘Thor is going to make trouble again,’ Nat announced over take-out.

Bruce, Steve and Nat were sitting around the sofa, fighting with chopsticks over summer rolls and pad thai.

It was a rare enough occasion lately that also Tony had emerged from the workshop long enough to be there, even if he was eating without paying much attention to it, his eyes on the tablet on which he was typing in-between, still only able to use one hand. His bad leg was resting on the couch again to elevate it. He had lost weight, Steve noticed. Was anyone checking how much he was eating?

Sure, Jarvis was supposed to alert them should Tony start drinking again (provided Tony hadn’t overridden that command), but that wasn’t the only way to harm or sabotage yourself, was it? At least not according to the self-help forums Steve had looked into.

And Tony seemed… vulnerable lately. Open.

Fragile.

Which was _good_ , which was what Tony needed to get better. They all knew that. It was a sign of progress, it was a good thing.

But Steve just couldn’t help worrying. He kept thinking of Tony’s slack, pale body, of his slow pulse, of the terrible wait for the paramedics.

And Tony still looked so… tired.

But before Steve had had the time to think on it further, Nat had put that out there – Thor was going to make trouble again.

‘Okay?’ Steve said and sat back. ‘What… what is it now?’

He didn’t really think he’d have the patience for the god at the moment – not after everything that had happened. Not with Loki growing quieter by the day even though his health had improved a lot lately and he was strong enough to stand and walk now (if not for long distances).

Something had changed since he had recovered from the infection. And not necessarily for the better.

‘Thor hasn’t heard from his brother in almost three months now,’ Nat said with a bit of a grimace. ‘He’s gotten it into his head that we’re holding him prisoner, hurting him.’

A pause.

‘Ah,’ Steve said, and put down his chopsticks, wondering what else to say to that.

‘Whereas the last time, he was convinced that Loki had enthralled us all. Guy should make up his _fucking mind_ ,’ Bruce said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘Seriously, the Hulk should really have spent less time beating up Loki and should have focussed on his brother instead. This is… nothing about this is good for my blood pressure. So what are we going to do?’

For a while, there was silence. Nat was tapping with the fingers on the armrest of the couch.

She looked disgruntled.

‘Thor needs reassurance,’ she said. ‘Or there’ll be another escalation.’

‘He’s still not welcome here,’ Tony mumbled, this being the only indicator that he had listened to the conversation. His eyes were still fixed on his tablet.

No, he was not well.

Sober, and talking to Rhodey each day and supposedly back in therapy, but not well. At least, Steve could see the signs now. So that was progress too.

He supposed.

‘Another video call,’ Nat proposed. ‘We’ll monitor it, and Thor won’t have to come here.’

Steve… didn’t like it.

Neither did any of the others, as far as he could tell. Tony certainly looked tenser than he had a moment ago.

But then Steve imagined what might happen if Thor showed up on the rooftop again, eyes blazing. They had been lucky the last time – Thor could do so much damage. There was so much that could go wrong.

He sighed.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘Nat, you talk to Dr Sanchez, get her opinion. I… I’ll talk to Loki.’

Part of the problem was that he already suspected Loki would simply agree.

*

Loki was spooning his soup. Slowly, but surely.

And Steve didn’t have a good feeling about this. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, sitting at the god’s bedside, thinking of how lethargic Loki had been for _days_ after the last video call with Thor. This was not exactly what they needed right now.

‘There is something on your mind,’ Loki stated.

‘…yes, there is,’ Steve admitted, and breathed out. ‘Thor… wants to talk to you. Another video call. To make sure you are okay.’

The spoon halted in mid-air for just a moment, then Loki put it back into the bowl.

‘And?’ he said then. ‘So we’ll talk. Is that all?’

Yes – he was going to pretend he was totally okay with it, just like Steve had feared.

‘I guess,’ Steve said. ‘And no – I… we want to make sure you’re alright with this. If you don’t want to talk to him, that’s fine.’

‘And why would I not want to talk to him?’ Loki asked, stirring the soup with the spoon.

Because you still have nightmares of him killing you, for once.

‘I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,’ Steve said. ‘Nobody would.’

Loki lips turned upwards in a sneer.

‘I thank you for your generosity,’ he said, then pushed the bowl a little away from him (nervous then – he still easily lost his appetite when something stressed him out). ‘I will sleep much better knowing that I have your permission _not_ to speak to my own brother.’

Steve sighed.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said. ‘He’s been violent with you, Loki.’

‘What, do you think he will strike me with lightning over the _phone_?’ asked Loki and laughed mockingly. ‘ _Violent_ – you mortals are so sensitive. A weak, effete race. Truly, you would have benefited from being ruled by a stronger one.’

Steve didn’t immediately answer – it was the first time since his most recent rather close scrape with death that Loki resorted to insults like that. And anyhow, Steve heavily doubted that this was even remotely about the human condition.

‘So do all you Aesir almost kill each other every two weeks then?’ he asked dryly.

Loki looked at him, his head cocked.

‘Considering how much their number has dwindled, that would hardly be practical,’ he answered.

And he added, ‘But then again, I am not Aesir, am I?’

Yeah – and then there was that.

‘By which you mean that you are more expendable?’ Steve said.

Loki looked at him, then let out another mocking and cold laugh, shook his head as if at Steve’s stupidity.

But he didn’t answer.

‘You’re _not,_ ’ Steve said pointedly. ‘More expendable, I mean.’

‘Oh,’ Loki said, sneering once more. ‘I didn’t know treacherous Jotnar foundlings who have invaded worlds out of spite and sheer stupidity and failed even at _that_ were in such high demand these days! Could I raise my own worth by making another unfortunate alliance and endangering Midgard again in the process, I wonder?’

Steve swallowed down his sudden anger, looked away.

This had not been an _alliance_ , he didn’t say.

At the corner of his eyes, he could see Loki watching him warily.

‘Thor is worried that we might be hurting you,’ Steve said. ‘That we are not treating you here but simply are holding you prisoner.’

Another pause.

Then Loki hummed.

‘I see,’ he said, and there was something strange to his tone.

Steve looked up, but Loki’s eyes were cast down, his hands folded on his lap. He sat like that for a while.

‘So what would you have me say?’ he asked then.

Steve didn’t understand at first.

‘What do you mean… what?’

‘What am I to say?’ Loki said, and his voice was soft suddenly, resigned. ‘Should I tell him that he is wrong and that I will join him in New Asgard as soon as I am recovered? I’ll do so. Should I tell him that you will keep me here, making me pay back my debt to Midgard by serving as a warrior for you? I’ll do that too. Should I tell him that I never want to see him again, and that he should not concern himself over my fate? Tell me the words, my good captain, and I shall speak them and will be content. I am at your command.’

Steve stared at him, still uncomprehending, but his gut was churning, and he already knew that he wouldn’t like in the least what he was about to understand.

‘What…,’ he began, his voice suddenly tight. ‘You’re not… Loki, you’re not at my _command_.’

Surely, Loki didn’t think…

‘Then I am not,’ Loki said, and a small, sad smile played around his lips. ‘Of course I’m not. I will tell Thor that then and claim that I simply prefer to stay here because I cannot face the people of Asgard who I have wronged so greatly-‘

‘Loki,’ Steve interrupted him. Something was happening, something strange, and somehow awful, and he felt this conversation slip out of his control. ‘What are you doing? I meant it when I said that you were not at my command. We’ve been offering you sanctuary and health care-‘

‘For which I am very grateful,’ Loki said, still looking down at the blankets. ‘As I must.’

‘But you are not our _prisoner,_ ’ Steve said.

‘So if I leave for New Asgard tonight, you will not object?’ Loki asked, suddenly looking him in the eyes.

Steve was… flabbergasted for a moment. Was this what this was about? That he wanted to _leave_? And then he thought about Thor and how blind he was to Loki’s fragile health, how ignorant of how closely Loki had scraped death, _again_ , how inconstant Thor was in his emotions concerning his brother, and thought of Loki, of his hiding his injuries, of his casual implication that _of course_ he was more expendable than the rest…

… how gaunt he still was… how weak…

Loki seemed to read in his eyes, and what he saw seemed to confirm his suspicions, because he cast his eyes down again.

‘I should rather stay at the tower, is it not so?’ he asked.

Steve felt caught, embarrassed.

There was a long pause.

‘We just… think that Thor and you being together… we just don’t think it’s a good idea for the moment.’

Loki nodded. Then bit his lips.

‘Then I must not say no.’

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. Something about the phrase…

‘Loki?’ he asked.

The god opened his mouth. Hesitated.

‘What must the king do now?’ he asked then, his voice low, unsure. ‘Must he submit? The king shall do it: must he be deposed? The king shall be contented: must he lose the name of king? O' God's name, let it go.’

‘Richard II,’ Steve said, frowning. ‘You’re quoting the play, Loki. Why?’

‘I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,’ Loki swallowed, then continued. ‘My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, my gay apparel for an almsman's gown, my figured goblets for a dish of wood, my sceptre for a palmer's walking staff, my subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.’

Had he learned all that by heart? And Steve knew the scene he was quoting, knew that this was Richard speaking – Richard knowing that he had lost, that he would lose even more, would lose everything to his cousin and rival, and he practically gave it all up. It was the scene where he submitted to his cousin’s force, saying that he did so willingly, because he knew, he _knew_ that it was pointless to keep fighting…

…and let go.

‘Loki,’ Steve said almost pleadingly, his heart aching. He stretched out his hand, laid it on Loki’s. The god didn’t jerk back, but he did flinch. His eyes were shining. ‘This… this is not how it _is_.’

‘No – for your own is yours, and I am yours, and all,’ Loki said. ‘What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; for do we must what force will have us do.’

‘No, Loki,’ Steve said, and for some reason Loki flinched at that, violently, curled in on himself, then straightened himself up with effort.

‘Or that I could forget what I have been,’ he said, his chin held high. ‘Or not remember what I must be now.’

He disentangled his fingers from Steve’s touch.

‘It is difficult, my good captain,’ Loki said. ‘I get tired sometimes. I have not yet shook off the regal thoughts wherewith I reigned. I hardly yet have learned to insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my limbs: Give sorrow leave awhile to tutor me to this submission. So please excuse if I do not perform to your satisfaction. Am I dismissed?’

‘You’re _not_ our prisoner,’ Steve said again. ‘Or our servant, or our _subject_. We’re just…’

… trying to protect you.

But would that be easier for Loki to accept than the idea of them jailing him?

Loki turned away from him, fleeing his gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure everything will be just FINE!


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything was not fine.
> 
> Okay, so this is the last chapter of this batch, but like I said, I don't think you'll have to wait long for the next one. I have to rewrite two scenes but I already have a pretty good idea how to go about it.
> 
> Please note that in this fic, I am very lore-noncompliant concerning the name of the Aesir. So if you know Norse mythology well, you will see a lot of familiar names in this fic (Skadi, Narfi, Vali, Forseti, ...), but the relations etc are incorrect. I wanted to use "real" Aesir names for most characters but I chose them rather randomly, disregarding their original role in the myths.
> 
> WARNING!  
> This chapter contains a semi-graphic mention of a suicide of an original character. It happened a long time ago, and it's no character that plays any role in the fic, but it's a realistic suicide scenario, so please take care.  
> I included it because Steve has grown up in the thirties and fourties - good sources have told me that suicide rates were very high during that time, so it'd make sense that he lost at least one person that way. And since Loki is latently suicidal, he can't help but be reminded.

Steve didn’t know whether he was supposed to be surprised or not when Loki disappeared a few days after their strange conversation.

Loki had grown even quieter lately, and distant. Steve read to him again, but this time, Loki didn’t listen. The difference was subtle, but it was there, and weighed all the heavier on Steve’s heart. He tried to talk about the issue again, about the looming call with Thor, about Loki not being their prisoner. But it felt like talking to a wall. Concerning the video call, Loki asked Steve to simply tell him where to go and what to say.

Until he disappeared, that was.

Loki left a note, which was more than Steve would have expected. It was addressed to him, and he found it in the pocket of his jacket while the others were already arguing about what to do now. They knew of course where Loki was – Thor had given them a call immediately after the trickster’s arrival. Apparently, Loki had used what Thor called the _secret paths_ to reach New Asgard – similar paths to those that should have taken the siblings from Earth to Asgard the last time and that had stranded them on Sakaar instead.

Fury wanted to drag Loki back by his ears of course (not that he had been invited to the meeting, but Nat was his more or less voluntary mouth-piece), but everybody else was kind of ambivalent about the whole thing.

Not that anyone _liked_ that Loki had gone to Norway. Far from – even not taking Loki’s personal well-being into account, this had far too much potential for escalation and related collateral damage.

But now that he was there, it was… complicated.

‘I don’t know,’ Tony said, kneading his forehead. ‘He went there on his own, he made that decision – and yeah, it was a stupid ass decision, I’m aware, but barging in and dragging him back could make everything even worse. And Dr Sanchez agrees, doesn’t she?’

She certainly did.

‘Well, we can’t leave him there either, can we?’ Clint said. Even he had come back to the tower for this meeting. He looked unwell. His shoulders hunched and like he hadn’t been sleeping. This was taking a toll on all of them, wasn’t it?

‘No,’ Tony said. ‘I don’t _know_. I want a fucking drink.’

Before anyone could say anything, he added, ‘I won’t actually _get_ that drink, don’t worry. I just…’

He rubbed his face. He looked lost, exhausted. His eyes wide. His good hand had been shaking during the whole meeting.

‘Should we call Rhodey?’ Bruce asked, eyeing him. ‘Should he come by and keep you company today?’

Tony shook his head. Paused. Then nodded.

‘… sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be,’ Bruce said. ‘You’re doing really well, you know?’

Tony only laughed weakly at that, and looked like what he really wanted to do was start to cry, but at least he didn’t contradict Bruce anymore. That was a recent development, and certainly a good one.

Steve made the phone call in the end.

And while he was talking to Rhodey on the phone, outside the meeting room, he was burrowing his hands in his jacket’s pockets, and that was when he found the note. Or rather, the short letter.

The stationary was elegant, maybe it was even Asgardian. And it was sealed shut with an actual wax seal. The stamp was two intertwined snakes. Was this… was this Loki’s personal seal?

What surprised Steve for a moment when he opened the letter was how irregular and unpractised Loki’s handwriting looked. Inelegant, the lines askew, the letters looking like Loki’s hand had shaken. Some letters too big, others too small. The ink smeared in places. Close to the scrawl of someone who was barely literate. It was a strange contrast to the care that Loki had put into the stationary.

But then Steve remembered – Tony had talked about nerve damage in Loki’s left arm, and that was the dominant one, wasn’t it? His writing hand was whole on the outside, yes, but it seemed it wasn’t that simple. Not that Loki would have fared better with his right hand, mutilated as it was.

In a way, and despite avoiding further amputation, the god had lost the use of both hands at least partly. That… Steve couldn’t even imagine how hard that loss had to be, and even more so for someone who was a knife fighter, who even in his magic was relying on hand gestures according to Fulla. And yet Loki hadn’t talked about it. He hadn’t mentioned the matter even once during their conversations. He never talked about his own health really.

_Since you assured me again and again that I am a free man, my good captain, I must not say no. That is why I took the liberty to depart for New Asgard even though I know well it will displease you. You know where to find me, and where I will stay at your and the Avengers’ disposal._

_Loki_

Steve sighed.

*

New Asgard lay on the coast, far away from any big human settlement, though there were a few small villages in the region. Steve had been surprised by that at first – it seemed impractical. Even from the nearest airport in Bodo, it took him and Fulla a car drive of several hours to get there, and Steve was glad they had passed a day in the city, getting rid of the jetlag, before travelling on. It was early spring, and the days were still terribly short. The last thing they needed was Steve falling asleep on the wheel and crashing their car into a tree (or driving it off a cliff).

Using the excuse that Loki had left Fulla behind and that she had to get to New Asgard _somehow_ now that there was no reason for her to stay in New York anymore, the Avengers had declared that Steve was to accompany her. Of course they could have used the quinjet to fly them directly to the village, but they decided against it in the end. The car would seem less threatening and with the journey being so long, Steve would have a pretty plausible reason to stay in New Asgard for a few days, evaluate the situation, maybe talk to Loki a bit.

He was far from the ideal choice, Steve was well aware, steering their car along the winding road in the darkness. What did he know about any of this? Tony had had to push his nose into the abuse for Steve to even notice it in the first place. But Nat had proven that she couldn’t be trusted with the trickster, and Loki had never let Tony close, or anyone for that matter… except Steve.

Well, _close_. Steve wouldn’t exactly call it that. Loki had allowed him to read to him, yes, and he had eventually trusted Steve enough to admit to some of his fears in front of him, even if he had wrapped them in Shakespearean quotes first.

It wasn’t much.

It was more than Steve got from Bucky nowadays.

He sighed at himself. Fulla asked him if anything was wrong, but he shook his head. Just more self-pity.

Dr Sanchez, as to her, hadn’t been able to just leave the States for a week or two on short notice – she had other patients to care for. Well, that and she had said that her turning up unexpectedly would probably be counterproductive, to put it mildly. It seemed like Loki had broken off their sessions after finding out that SHIELD didn’t actually see him as an acute threat nowadays and that the sessions weren’t actually obligatory to keep him out of custody. That had been apparently all he had needed to stop them and retract his consent completely. And without Loki’s consent, Sanchez couldn’t do a thing.

The therapist had taken Steve to the side before his departure.

‘If you go to Norway, there is something you need to understand first,’ she had said. ‘I am aware you care about Loki and that you want to see him get better.’

Steve had wanted to protest, but she had just shaken her head.

‘That’s a good thing,’ she had said. ‘It is always a good thing, and I hope for him to get better too. But you have to stay aware that it might not turn out that way. Between Loki’s physical condition, his suicidality and self-harming behaviour, the violent dynamic between him and his brother and the war with Thanos that is going to start soon, his chances of surviving the next two years are below ten percent. Maybe even below five. You need to stay aware of that, Steve.’

Steve had swallowed.

‘I’ve beaten worse odds,’ he had said roughly.

And Dr Sanchez had nodded.

‘And maybe he will too,’ she had said calmly. ‘But that is _his_ fight – you can be there, you can help, yes. But you cannot single-handedly save him. If you go down there, and especially should you decide to stay, you need to be aware that there will be escalation, there will be violence. Loki might get a lot worse than he is now, both mentally and physically, and getting him out of Thor’s influence will not be straightforward. I’m not saying that you should give up on him. But don’t ever forget that no matter what we do, despite all our efforts, the chances are still very, very high that he will die.’

And Steve had nodded.

It was interesting, he thought now, that Sanchez hadn’t just assumed he would return to the States after a few days, like he had told everyone. She really did seem to read people well.

Sanchez had briefed him and the team in general on a few other matters then. It had not been a very pleasant talk.

Steve glanced at Fulla on the co-driver’s seat. She had been rather silent for the whole trip, and also now she was simply staring ahead, holding herself very upright in her seat. She had a strong build, and was very tall, taller than him even, the crown of her head almost touching the ceiling of the car. A foreign element in this so distinctly human transportation vehicle, even more so than in the jet that had brought them to Bodo.

He wondered whether or not to like her.

There was no doubt about her commitment to helping Loki recover – especially in the first weeks after their arrival at the tower, she had barely slept, and when she had not worked on Loki, she had researched and read and had brewed potions and prepared spells. She had defended Loki against everyone and everything she had considered as a threat with an awe-inspiring vigour.

That Loki would just leave her without so much as a word (Steve had been the only one to receive a note), running back to the one person who was obviously the major detrimental factor on his health, whether mental or physical, had made her pale with fury. She had been trying to hide her worry these past days, but Steve had still sensed it. The only thing that had calmed her a bit was that prior to his departure, Loki had also raided her store of potions and drugs, including the anti-coagulants that were still essential for his survival. Apparently and according to his medical files, this was not the first time Loki would flee the healing halls, stealing supplies to treat himself first. Fulla had cautiously admitted that she believed Loki knowledgeable enough to self-medicate (whether he should be _trusted_ with it was a completely different matter, Steve privately thought) and that he now also had the resources to do so, which seemed to have taken a considerable weight off her shoulders.

So yes, she was well-intentioned, Steve supposed.

But Steve knew by now what Fulla also had said – only two people could overrule her in her treatment of an Aesir. The patient themselves and the king.

Which was a reasonable rule, Steve supposed – in all those cases where the king wasn’t the abusive brother of the suicidal patient she was treating. As it was, as soon as Loki was back in New Asgard, she would be essentially powerless against the two biggest threats Loki was facing – Thor and himself.

And then there was the way she had talked about that, about suicide, how shocked she had been even at the implication… how well could she help Loki recover from an illness that he wasn’t even allowed to have in the first place?

There had been suicides in Steve’s time, of course there had been. There had been the Great Depression, and then there had been the war. He remembered a refugee from Poland he had gotten to know, one of the few fairies he had known apart from Bucky. He had been very religious, and had had rather strong opinions on the matter of taking your own life. He had also told everyone to see the positive side of things, had been optimistic about the war, witty, had laughed a lot, a glass half full kind of guy. He had been able to amuse you for hours on end.

And then one evening, after drinking a few beers with Steve and Bucky like he usually did, after joking and telling adventurous stories about his childhood in Poland, he had gone home, had taken his gun from his cupboard and had shot his brains out.

His strong opinions on suicide certainly hadn’t stopped him.

‘If you need me to make a break, please just say so. Anytime,’ Steve said.

Fulla shook her head.

‘The sooner we arrive, the better,’ she answered.

When they turned another bend in the road winding along the cliff and New Asgard came into sight, another hour had passed, and the small village was only indicated by a few warm spots of light in the darkness. The map indicated that mountains were nearby, but it could as well have been a bottomless void. Steve wasn’t used to such dark nights anymore. In New York, the night seemed always just like a darker shade of the day under a black sky.

When they drove up to the first houses, a crowd had already gathered – they arrival had been announced, and Steve supposed the Aesir didn’t get visitors very often. Thor was in the first row of course, and he walked towards Steve as soon as Steve had stepped outside the car. Thor was grinning brightly, his arms open.

‘Steve Rogers, brave Captain of the Kingdom of America!’ he said, his voice booming. ‘And Lady Fulla Hoenirdottir – what joy I feel to see you both again.’

Steve decided to just let the rather tight hug happen, despite what had happened the last time they had seen each other.

‘It’s good to be here,’ he said, which was a lot more honest than to say he felt overjoyed to see Thor.

The god held him at arm’s length now, and despite the bright smile, there was something tense about him.

‘I am in your debt for escorting Lady Fulla,’ he said.

‘It was my honour,’ Steve answered.

Thor turned to Fulla then and Steve used the occasion to search the crowd. And he did find Loki in the end. He wasn’t even actively hiding, he was standing more or less at the front of the crowd in fact, like Thor. Despite that, he seemed to fade into the background.

He was standing half turned away from Steve, wearing a glamour that hid the signs of his bad health (of _course_ ), one hand holding the other arm in a gesture that looked almost insecure. And he was eyeing Steve warily.

‘Hello, Loki,’ Steve said.

Loki nodded.

Then he turned fully away from him, his eyes now following Thor, and there was something alert, vigilant about that that made Steve’s alarm bells ring at once.

Well, he thought. Sanchez had told them that this wouldn’t be easy.

*

There was a feast – of course, there was a feast. That was something Steve should _definitely_ have expected. Predictably, Thor spent it talking on and on about New Asgard, about all the buildings they had been constructing, the new council he had installed, the fisher boats they had built. Apparently, they had trouble with the treacherous currents in these parts of Norway and had suffered several capsizes already, but were still hopeful they would be able to sustain themselves on fishing soon. Steve was introduced to a golden-eyed man called Heimdall and a very drunk woman named Valkyrie (was Valkyrie a proper name on Asgard? Steve had thought that this was merely the denomination for a female warrior cast). Loki’s name came up only in passing, since apparently he was on that king’s council. And how Thor managed to reconcile suspecting Loki of treachery at every turn and using him as his councillor at the same time, Steve didn’t even try to understand.

Spirits were lifted, and people drank and laughed. Outside, everyone except for Loki had been bundled up in warm clothing, but in the well-heated hall, the layers had fallen quickly. At some point, one of the Aesir took up what looked very much like a home-made lute and started playing and singing some tale of a dragon that needed to be slayed.

Loki sat close to Steve and Thor, but was very quiet, pushing the food around on his plate, using his dominant left hand again now that the infection was gone. The glamour he was wearing gave him all his fingers back on the other hand, Steve noticed. Probably, most of the people here would assume that the fingers had simply grown back, or they had never learned of the loss. Loki’s gaze was either fixed on his plate or roaming the room with thinly-disguised nervousness, or scrutinising Thor. Still with that same vigilance. And he was listening. He was pretending not to pay attention, but Steve knew his listening face, and he was trying to catch every word Thor and Steve exchanged.

Steve didn’t take that as a good sign exactly.

He didn’t try to talk to Loki that day, guessing that it would be pointless, and was proven right when Loki left long before the feast was over.

Steve was guided to his guest quarters in a small house otherwise occupied by a middle-aged woman named Skadi, her sister and niece, her grand-father and her four children. The room he was given obviously belonged to the sister and her daughter, but he couldn’t convince them that they shouldn’t have to give up their space for him. In fact, they laughed off his attempts, and then loaded his arms with another blanket.

‘It gets cold during the nights – I will put another kettle of hot water on the stove, for tea.’

The houses that had already been constructed were simple and obviously a bit over-crowded (the majority of the Aesir still had to live on the Statesman, some using containers provided by the Norwegian government instead), but strongly-built, well-insulated and cosy, and Steve fell into his bed gratefully, breathing in the smell of new wood and freshly washed linen, looking around the room. Children’s drawings were hanging on the walls, some of them depicting the members of the household, some of them the space ship, and one showed what was probably supposed to be the old Asgard.

He felt surprisingly heavy and tired – the day had not been that long really, at least not for a serum-powered human, but he still felt drained.

He closed his eyes, and couldn’t help but think of Loki, of how small he had looked at that feasting table.

Maybe it’d be better if Steve stayed for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author vigorously points at the ‘It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better’ tag, mouthing at you that they really, really mean it this time, absolutely no kidding.  
> And no, we’re definitely not yet in the ‘it gets better’ part. 
> 
> Black_Feather_Fiction rambles:  
> Some of you might wonder why I decided to make Loki run back to Thor – I won’t go too much into detail here, but just know that it is not merely an excuse to make matters worse but roughly based on some of the research I’ve done about abusive relationship dynamics, as well as on my own (limited) experience with this kind of thing. Of course, I’m far from being an expert, and of course, not every abusive relationship works the same way. The violent family dynamic of the house of Odin is more than a thousand years old though, so it’s a very, very, very well-established system, and the people who have hurt Loki the most (apart from Thanos) are also the closest thing Loki has ever had to someone caring about him (as far as he remembers). This version of Loki has always been a very isolated one and with Asgard gone, he has literally no one else (the Avengers obviously don’t have his trust yet). So yes, he actually has a vested interest in defending this relationship, even if it kills him/has already killed him… twice? Three times? No matter. Sometimes, the unknown, not being loved and loneliness can still feel much, much, much scarier than whatever ugliness you live through/die off in the abusive dynamic. And no, this is of course not Loki’s fault, and no, this is no excuse for victim shaming. Please don’t do victim shaming in the comments; I can’t abide it (for so many reasons) and it makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I might delete those comments because I don’t want others to feel uncomfortable either.  
> If you wonder what my theoretical background is for most of the psychological shit in my stories – it’s mostly system theory and systemic therapy. I kinda literally grew up with that (I have shrinks in the family).  
> Lol, for not going into details, I wrote quite a lot, but I ramble. I’m a rambler.
> 
> And if you are an abuse survivor, I hug you tightly and give you all my love - it was never your fault, and you were so, so strong to survive it, and you deserve all the nice things! You deserve love and kindness!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised that you didn't have to wait long, and I think I kept my promise, hehe :).  
> I've got 4 chapters for you this time, but I'm gonna warn you right now that the last one is really short.
> 
> Also, fair warning: From now on, there will be very, very little Tony for quite a while. He will get a lot more relevant again later on in the fic, but for now, we're following Loki, which means we're following Steve, because Steve followed Loki to New Asgard, lol. So prepare for a lot of Steve POV.
> 
> Soundtrack - New Asgard: [Agnes Obel - The Curse](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1wgaFJ0750)

Probably due to the sun’s late rising, Steve overslept, but it was still very foggy and the light was dim when he eventually ventured outside. The Aesir rarely took their meals at their own houses for the moment but used the Thing Hall (another strange name) for that. A few people cooked for the whole community in shifts, as it appeared. When he arrived, rubbing his arms, trying to get warm again, lunch was already being served, but Steve’s grumbling stomach was all the more grateful for the bowl of rich stew he was handed. The Aesir obviously had overactive metabolisms too, so the portions were big and for once, Steve didn’t have to get second (or third) helpings.

In daylight, it was obvious how much the Aesir were one thing above all – privileged refugees. And Steve wasn’t blind to _how_ privileged they were exactly. In contrast to so many human refugees, they had been granted permanent asylum almost upon arrival, had been given their own land to use (though it was understood that it was only a lease that they would have to pay for eventually), enjoyed (very limited) sovereignty, had been allowed to work, to fish, to construct and to trade, and had been given very generous care packages to help them over the winter. Norway had been rather quick to realise what a great resource they might later have in the Aesir if they were welcoming now.

But even considering all that, the people of Asgard had evidently escaped with little more than their clothes on their backs and now were dressed in a strange assortment of jeans and doublets, leather pants and sweaters, tunics and sneakers. The Norwegian government had provided them with building materials – containers were standing dotted around the small village next to cottages in various stages of construction – and with tools for everyday life. In addition to that, it seemed like the Aesir had raided the Statesman rather thoroughly. Still, there were obviously not enough plates and sets of cutlery for everyone to go around, not enough chairs, not enough tables, not enough of anything really. The Thing Hall not only served as a canteen but also as a sort of nursery and school, and also the elderly seemed to like to spend most of their time there. Probably because of the big oven standing in the middle of the hall and that they liked to sit around, stretching out their feet towards the fire.

There was no sign of Thor or Loki however, or of anyone else Steve knew, so he took to wandering about the small village after having eaten.

There was a constant bustle of activity, the sound of hammers was never far as new houses were being constructed. A woman had set up a forge at the town square, and under a canopy, carpenters were preparing wood for construction while one of them was carving decorative ledgers. In another small building, Steve found several looms set up with women working on them without pause.

The first remotely familiar person Steve found was the golden-eyed man called Heimdall. He was supervising the construction of a house, but looked distracted, as if his attention were elsewhere.

He turned to Steve as soon as he was a few feet away.

‘Captain Rogers,’ Heimdall said.

‘Good morning,’ Steve answered, wondering what the correct protocol was for dealing with these people. ‘Well, I guess it’s not morning anymore…’

He scratched his head.

‘I’m afraid I haven’t gotten used to the short days here yet.’

‘They are difficult to get used to,’ Heimdall agreed, and then said nothing further.

There was a pause, awkward on Steve’s side.

He felt observed… very closely.

‘It’s a beautiful village that you are building here,’ he said eventually. ‘And it’s impressive what you have managed to do in so little time.’

‘I thank you,’ Heimdall said, but nothing else.

Alright, so not a big conversationalist. Steve could empathise with that.

‘Have you seen Loki or Thor somewhere?’ he asked.

‘The King has travelled to Bodo, to attend a meeting with a Norwegian government delegation,’ Heimdall said. ‘His younger brother I have seen at the harbour earlier today. Is there something you need from them?’

‘No, I…,’ Steve found he felt increasingly nervous under that gaze, and he didn’t even know why exactly. ‘Thank you.’

He bowed, a bit awkwardly, and then bid his good-bye, wondering if it was only his imagination or if Heimdall was really looking a little amused by his nerves.

Steve didn’t find Loki at the harbour. He found him close by though, at the edge of the small village. Like the day before, his clothing was lighter than that of the other Asgardians – he was wearing his usual armour in fact, which had to be insufficient in the cold weather, and yet he didn’t look cold. His Jotnar heritage, Steve supposed. Loki was walking up and down a hill with a clipboard in his hand, but it seemed forgotten, almost slipping his fingers. There was an intense expression of concentration on his face, and his mouth was open, moving a little.

His feet were searching, again and again changing direction, as if he was following a track, only his eyes were closed.

It looked… just a little bit strange, all in all.

Before Steve could ask what was going on, the god startled however, opened his eyes and looked directly at him.

Looking quite a bit caught too.

‘Good captain,’ he said then, a bit breathily. ‘I apologise – I didn’t hear you coming.’

‘And I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,’ Steve said. ‘What are you doing here? It looks… interesting.’

Loki blinked at him, then raised his clipboard.

‘Inventorying New Asgard’s resources,’ he said matter-of-factly and came closer, handing Steve the clipboard.

And indeed it was an inventory, and a meticulous one at that too. Houses, raw materials, boats, fisher nets, everything was categorised, listed, and quantified, with sub-categories for the current state of those resources.

Loki’s scrawl on the contrary was just as irregular and almost unreadable as it had been in the letter, and Loki lost the lines sometimes, ink smeared over items, the pen pressed too deeply into the paper, some parts completely illegible, scratched out and repeated, the letters trembling. The whole list spoke of a struggle with putting those words to paper.

‘Impressive,’ Steve said earnestly, flipping through the pages. ‘You have done that in just a few days?’

How much time had it taken him to write all that down, considering how difficult writing had to be for him at the moment?

‘I couldn’t start right away after my arrival,’ Loki said, a crease between his eyebrows. ‘It took me some time to… in any case, it isn’t finished yet.’

And he took the clipboard back almost possessively.

‘Doesn’t make it less impressive,’ Steve said. ‘So… what were you inventorying with your eyes closed?’

Loki eyed him decidedly warily.

‘I was taking a break,’ he said then.

Okay, so he didn’t want Steve to know. There could be many reasons for that.

‘Everyone needs one of those once in a while,’ he agreed. He looked around, but the fog was still obscuring most of the landscape. ‘How have you been settling back in?’

Something moved in Loki’s face, then was gone, hidden away.

‘There is no settling _back in,_ ’ he said then, not quite sharply. ‘This,’ and he made a wide gesture encompassing their surroundings, ‘this isn’t home. We are in exile, most of our people are dead, and our _home_ has been quite literally burnt to ashes.’

No, there was no arguing about that.

‘I know,’ Steve said. ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I just meant-‘

‘I know what you meant,’ Loki cut him off.

He looked around them again, something almost hunted in his eyes, then he nodded towards Steve, ‘It has been a pleasure,’ he said, ‘You know where to find me,’ and walked past him into the fog.

*

The problem was that (unsurprisingly) Steve did not actually know where to find Loki. At all.

That day he only saw him one more time, from far away and Loki was then talking to an unfamiliar Aesir, and gone again in a minute. And that despite the efforts Steve had made to run across his way.

He tried to speak to Fulla in-between, but it seemed she was very busy integrating herself into the small team of Asgardian healers at the make-shift infirmary called the healing halls. She had no time for him.

And so he found himself sitting idly in the Thing Hall, darkness having fallen again outside, and before he knew it, he was helping take care of the children, changing diapers, playing with them, rocking them while they were screaming. Which very effectively made the women around him enamoured with him.

Somehow, judging from what he had heard about Asgard until now, he would have expected to be the only man participating in the care taking.

That was not so, he noticed.

The society he was seeing was certainly very old-fashioned, by the standards of the States in the twenty-first century, but he was not the only guy carrying a toddler around. Especially the very old men ended up with nurslings or small children in their arms. In a way, it all reminded Steve of how things had been in his youth, and despite the vastly different culture, it was strangely easy to mingle, to take part.

And then there was dinner, and music, and dancing (Thor still caught up in Bodo, Loki not anywhere to be seen), and somehow he was dragged into it.

He very much doubted this kind of dance had been practiced at the Asgardian court, since it involved a lot of hopping and stomping on the ground, but then again, it had obviously not been the court that had survived. The dance was wild and not very elaborated and he was happy for it, because again, it reminded him of the pubs of his childhood, and because he had never learned to dance properly anyway.

But this, this he could manage.

*

The next day, Steve was woken by the children of Skadi and Forseti who were running around the small house, shouting, arguing and laughing and crying for their modi, and all that despite the fact that outside, it was still pitch black.

Skadi and her sister Forseti laughed at his bleary eyes and his messy hair, and in the end, they all went to the Thing Hall for breakfast together. Steve learned that they were both goldsmiths actually, like their grandfather Vili. In New Asgard, they didn’t quite know how to make themselves useful yet, but the crown prince had already been at their house, noting their profession on his clipboard.

‘What is your impression of Thor and Loki?’ Steve asked as they were walking down the dark street, the kids running back and forth, chasing each other, throwing snow balls.

The two women looked at him sidelong, almost suspiciously.

‘We are grateful to the Norns that the royal line has survived in them,’ Skadi said then.

‘Of course,’ Steve said.

Forseti said, ‘If it hadn’t been for them, all of Asgard would have fallen to Hela. And the prince was prepared to give his life, getting us to Midgard safely. He did give it, even though the king brought him back. And yet he behaves as if…’

She looked down, her eyebrows furrowed, and he wondered whether she would say anything further. But she didn’t.

Steve nodded, and they grew silent once more.

*

Steve spent a good part of the morning taking care of the children again, until the sun finally rose high enough to penetrate the fog a little that was still clinging to the village. Then he took to wandering, found the woman called Valkyrie sitting on the porch of a house and drinking from a bottle with colourful liquid inside. Alcohol, Steve supposed. Or something with similar effects.

He greeted her and she looked at him, her head lop-sided, with little interest.

‘Have you seen Loki around?’ he asked her.

Valkyrie let out a small, hard laugh.

‘You won’t find Lackey if he doesn’t want to be found,’ she said, which was probable enough, Steve supposed.

‘So you know him well?’ Steve asked.

Valkyrie shrugged, took another swig from her bottle.

‘Far better than I ever wanted to know him, that’s for sure,’ she mumbled. ‘But not well, no. He should have just fucking stayed away.’

‘What was that?’ Steve asked, but Valkyrie shook her head.

‘Nothing.’

Her voice slurred a little, then she hiccupped.

‘This family is so screwed up, I can’t even…’

She trailed off, then looked up at him, and scowled.

‘Now piss off.’

After a glance at her body posture and the expression on her face, he decided to take her advice.

Steve didn’t stay idle for long. By midday, he had struck up a conversation with some of the Aesir busy with construction, and by the afternoon, he was already helping. It was amazing what those people could do with their bare hands alone, without any machinery to assist them, and it was nice to work alongside them. He could only take on relatively simple tasks that required (relatively) little body strength, but Steve found it agreeable to stay busy, and the Aesir were happy for every helping hand.

Dinner was, once again, a merry affair. But once again, Loki was nowhere to be seen.

*

His third full day in New Asgard began, and Steve already had the impression of having fallen into a kind of routine, a routine he broke deliberately in order to search for Loki in earnest. One of the Aesir finally pointed him up a hill, and soon, Steve trudged upwards through snow and muddy, wet grass, not able to see for more one or two feet, wondering what exactly he was doing.

He knew he should finally call the Avengers and give them and Dr Sanchez a report on the Loki and Thor situation, and yet he had no idea what to say. That he had played with children and had helped build houses instead? That Loki was as evasive as a ghost?

He must have reached a kind of summit, for the ground evened out beneath his feet. But the fog still surrounded him, creating the impression that the world had been reduced to the few feet around him.

For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow, ‘Loki,’ he called out, and walked more quickly, but then that shadow was gone.

‘Loki!’ he called again. ‘Are you there?’

In what direction lay the village even? He wasn’t sure anymore. Just meadow and snow and mud, all around him. Walking on, he turned on the spot, why was this fog so thick, so persistent, turned back, and it seemed like this summit would go on forever, but then, strange, the smell suddenly so salty, the next moment, someone took his arm, ‘Stop’.

When Steve turned to him, startled, Loki was standing not even a foot away from him, as if they had been walking side by side all this time.

‘Where have you come from?’ Steve asked.

Loki, who had looked at him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, chuckled a little at that.

‘Haven’t you been calling for me?’ he said. ‘I live to serve.’

‘Do you?’ Steve asked, and there it was again, this fresh, salty smell.

He turned back into the direction into which he had been going.

‘I wouldn’t continue that way,’ Loki said calmly, his hand still on Steve’s arm, as if to hold him back.

‘Why not?’ Steve asked.

‘Because you’re standing at the edge of a cliff,’ Loki said with some amusement. ‘Two steps and you will find yourself on much, much lower ground.’

Ah.

And now that Steve knew what to listen for, he faintly did hear waves crushing against rocks. What he had smelt was simply the sea. He was standing at the edge of a drop and he saw nothing.

‘This fog is dangerous,’ he said, frowning.

‘If you don’t know your way around here, it certainly is,’ Loki agreed. ‘But it will lift very soon.’

‘How would you know?’ Steve asked.

Loki’s smile widened and he winked.

‘Have you caused it?’ Steve asked, suddenly getting suspicious.

‘Now, I do _not_ know wherefrom you got the idea that I might be behind this inconvenience,’ Loki said, raising his eyebrows. ‘After all, I have a spotless reputation.’

He looked healthy, Steve thought, observing him more closely, but again then he always would with a glamour, wouldn’t he? His eyes, even though the smile reached them, were tired.

And he didn’t hold Steve’s gaze for long, looked away eventually.

‘How are you doing?’ Steve asked more softly.

But Loki nodded towards where the sea was supposed to be.

‘Look,’ he said, his voice low.

Steve turned towards the direction of his nod, and at first, he didn’t understand what the god meant. But then he saw the holes that had been ripped into the fog, giving him glimpses of rock, then of a precipice, water.

And as if this had really all been Loki’s doing and a spell had been lifted, the fog tore up quickly now, wind brushing against Steve’s face as it rushed up. What had been a thick blanket was ripped into tendrils, a frayed and holey cloth that ascended and gave way to the cliffs and the sea. Ever more landscape extended around them – they were standing on the edge of a meandering shore that stretched into the distance, the waves crushing against the rocks far beneath.

Everything bathed in the warm light of a sun already on its descent.

He smelled the sea, the grass, and god, all those _colours_.

I need to draw this, he suddenly thought. I need to memorise this fog and how it was washed away by the wind, I need to remember each shade of this wild palette of colours and draw and paint it all.

He turned on the spot, slowly, taking in the beauty of the land, and still mostly hidden by the fog, he could, having turned his back on the cliff, see the mountains that were bordering the village. The fog was climbing them, washing over their hills like a living being, getting entangled between treetops, so easily torn.

Those mountains, where Steve could get a glimpse of them, were majestic, rough-looking, like giant watchmen guarding New Asgard from her enemies. For the first time, he thought he could understand why living here might have a certain appeal.

When Steve turned back to Loki, the god’s eyes were on him, observing him closely, as if searching for something. There was a small, content smile on his lips.

‘I had no idea,’ Steve said, a bit croakily.

The edge of Loki’s lips twitched.

‘Be wary of the fog in the future, should it rise again,’ he said. ‘As you have seen, it is not necessarily friendly.’

Steve frowned, ‘I thought-‘

‘That it is not my doing doesn’t mean there is no magic involved,’ Loki said, smirking. Then he breathed in, and for the first time ever that Steve had seen, his face relaxed somewhat, became more peaceful. ‘There is much on Midgard you mortals have forgotten about. But your forgetfulness did not make it go away.’

He closed his eyes, breathed out slowly, and Steve got the impression that there was something Loki could sense here that was inaccessible to Steve.

‘Is that what you were looking for, walking around with your eyes closed? These powers that we don’t know anymore?’

Loki chuckled, and opened one eye, looking Steve over.

‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Clever.’

He put his hands in his pockets.

‘But I should not linger.’

Walking back to New Asgard, the mountains had almost completely freed themselves of the fog clinging to them, and the beauty with which they embraced the village was almost dizzying.

Steve had to stop walking for a while just to look, his mouth open, feeling suddenly so small in front of this grandiose nature, and Loki stopped with him, studying him silently.

I need to draw this, a voice in Steve’s mind whispered again, and his fingers itched. The same pull, a deep, almost painful desire overcame him that he knew on from his childhood when the urge to draw or paint would rise. The urge to sketch lines and mix colours and translate to the paper the awe he felt when…

He had to find out whether he could get some drawing or painting materials somewhere, or he knew the itch would never leave him alone.

Loki’s body language changed when they arrived at the village, Steve noticed. He didn’t duck exactly, in fact, he held himself perfectly straight.

And still, he seemed to grow smaller, less noticeable. And tenser.

Steve accompanied him for a while, keeping a bit of a distance because that seemed to make Loki less nervous – the god had pulled out his clipboard again and was looking around the village, his restless eyes registering everything, and checking and rechecking his inventory, ticking items off on his list with trembling, uncooperative fingers, clutching the pen tightly, and it pressed deeply into the paper that sometimes tore beneath it. He was murmuring to himself, the words not distinguishable. Sometimes he stopped in his wandering, and after greeting some Aesir with a small bow. He asked them questions, about their professions, qualifications. About their experience with martial training and battle.

Despite his perfect manners, Steve noticed, there was something stiff to him that hadn’t been there before, something awkward, and each contact, each conversation he seemed to keep as short as possible. He always stood at a bit too much of a distance. Avoided looking people in the eyes.

The Aesir were polite with him, even trying to be friendly. Steve caught them trying to praise him for his work for New Asgard, or trying to broach the subject of the Tesseract and his sacrifice, but he derailed such attempts quickly, and the Aesir were easily discouraged. Timid, or maybe even a bit intimidated.

They looked unused to dealing with royalty, as awkward with Loki as Loki was with them, and just like he wanted to keep his distance, it was pretty evident that they also wanted to keep theirs.

They didn’t know what to do with him, Steve realised, and recognised in them the same behaviour he had seen in his old neighbourhood when the men working at the factories had had to deal with doctors or other people of high social standing.

And Steve understood in that moment what made it so easy for _him_ to fit in even though the Aesir were quite literally aliens, and what made Loki stand out so awkwardly even though he had been raised technically in the same culture.

Because Loki had _not_ been raised in the same culture as the rest of them, had he? No, not really.

Loki had been raised as a prince. In the culture of the high court, whereas the majority of the survivors of Asgard were the common people. Like Steve.

Huh. It seemed that even the cultural differences between Midgard and Asgard were not big enough for the cultural differences between the rich and the poor not to yawn even wider.

And then Steve got torn out of his thoughts because Loki, who had been walking and taking notes on his clipboard at the same time, murmuring again, stopped in his tracks, raised his head and looked at the street that was winding along the cliffs, arriving at the village from the direction of Bodo.

His whole body tensed, and his shoulders went up.

‘What is it?’ Steve asked, and Loki startled, turned to him, looking at him confusion for a moment. It looked quite a bit as if he had completely forgotten Steve was even still there.

But then he got his face under control, and his shoulders went down rather deliberately.

‘Thor is returning,’ he said neutrally.

Steve glanced at the street again, but there was no sign of a car.

‘You can feel it?’ he concluded.

‘His seidr is not subtle,’ Loki said with a small smile, but it wavered at the edges.

‘Loki,’ Steve said. ‘You… you know you don’t have to stay here, right? If you need-‘

‘Oh, of course,’ Loki said, and his smile hardened just a little. ‘I should prefer de facto custody surrounded by my enemies in an ugly and smelly city to living here as a free person and crown prince with my family and my people, shouldn’t I?’

‘Are we still your enemies?’ Steve asked, his frown deepening. ‘And do you really feel free here?’

Loki didn’t answer at once, looking at him, his face blank.

‘Whatever you think you have understood about me and my brother, forget it,’ he said then. ‘We have been siblings for over a thousand years, we are gods – our world is entirely _beyond_ your comprehension.’

‘Is that so?’ Steve asked. Until now, he hadn’t gotten that impression exactly. ‘Do you not live with bread like us then, feel want, taste grief, need friends? Subjected thus, how can you say I cannot comprehend?’

Did you think you were the only one able to learn Shakespeare by heart?

Loki continued to meet his gaze, face still blank, then he scoffed.

‘Well, for once, I don’t really have to live with bread,’ he said then, dryly. ‘Or at least not for a while. And if I were subjected to a _need of friends_ , by the Norns, I would have died a long time ago.’

He laughed a little, but his face turned serious again from one moment to the other.

‘I give you this warning only once,’ he said. ‘Stay clear of the internal affairs of the house of Odin. We do not take well to outsiders meddling, and while we have been very patient with your conduct, not least of all because necessities forced us to be, you do not want to test that patience. Not mine, and _certainly_ not Thor’s. You might consider him a friend – but you have never seen him in true battle fury. You have absolutely _no idea_ what he is capable of.’

Steve thought he actually was beginning to have a vague idea. But he also readily believed Loki that Thor could be a lot worse than what they had seen. And that _Loki_ could be a lot worse too. If they banded up together… the results would probably be devastating.

Loki’s voice had been calm, matter-of-fact, and all the more dangerous for it. And he scrutinised Steve coldly, his chin raised, until he suddenly fled his gaze, looked back up at the road leading to the village, his eyebrow furrowing, slightly ducking again.

The confidence had left him so quickly, Steve almost felt dizzy from the change.

Loki swallowed, ‘He’s not in a good mood,’ he said, his eyes restless again, almost hunted. ‘I should-‘

And he turned and walked quickly in the other direction. It looked quite a bit like running away.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, it was pointed out to me in a very kind and extremely helpful comment that I wasn't depicting Loki being half-deaf correctly, and I was given really useful information on how to describe that better. Thank you so much!!! <3  
> This is so helpful, you cannot even believe it!  
> I want to take this into consideration in future chapters of course and probably also rewrite the previous ones with the new knowledge I have now.  
> But this will take time, also because I really have to think about what to change and where, and I don't have that time right now - so what I'm gonna do now is I'm gonna post this batch as I wrote it originally and unchanged, and take the time this matter deserves later on. But I won't forget it.
> 
> Second things second, I just wanna give you the warning that Steve, despite meaning well and despite his research, doesn’t really understand how domestic abuse works yet. Or rather, he doesn’t want to acknowledge how domestic abuse works. It will show from time to time. It does in this chapter.
> 
> Third things third, maybe don't count too much on Valkyrie either (I know some of you have hopes for her). This version of her is still very much an alcoholic, and not exactly a functional one.

Natasha grimaced on the smart phone screen when Steve told the Avengers how things had been developing. About Loki’s rather clear threat.

‘Yes,’ she said then. ‘I suppose that adds up.’

‘It _adds up_?’ Steve asked.

‘Sanchez warned us, remember?’ Nat said. ‘She said that Loki might not exactly make it easy for us to protect him.’

Of course Steve _remembered_. He remembered sitting there, with Sanchez telling them calmly and matter-of-factly that as far as she could judge the situation, they should prepare for Loki not only not helping them but actively sabotaging any effort to separate him and Thor. They should prepare for Loki fighting to be with Thor, for him defending the abuse, for him trying even to provoke it. He also remembered not understanding.

For this call, Steve had retreated to his small room in Skadi’s and Forseti’s house, after making sure that the rest of the inhabitants of the house were all at dinner at the Thing Hall. Thor had been back for three days now, and Steve had claimed to feel a little under the weather, so to excuse himself early.

The rest of the Avengers had assembled in one of the meeting rooms of the Avenger tower for the call, though Tony’s eyes were on his tablet again where he was doodling something.

‘Of course he runs back to Thor,’ Tony said now, confirming Steve’s suspicion that he had been listening despite appearances. He threw the tablet on the table without much care. ‘Of course he tells you to keep the fuck out of his shit. Why shouldn’t he?’

‘Because Thor has hurt him?’ Steve said, his eyebrows raised. ‘Like, a _lot_?’

It still seemed to him like a rather good argument.

Tony shrugged.

‘So what?’ he said. ‘What else does Loki have except New Asgard? Who else but his brother?’

‘Us,’ Steve said immediately.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Tony said. ‘The band of mortal heroes who defeated him. He told you, Steve – he still considers us his enemies. He still sort of thinks we were keeping him prisoner here at the tower. Maybe he thinks we might have even more nefarious plans for him, and really, I would get it. In his place, I would assume that it would all come down to getting revenge on me, or using me somehow. Why would we have any interest in his actual well-being?’

‘Because of basic decency?’ Steve said.

‘Does Loki strike you as someone who has experienced a lot of that in his life?’ Tony asked dryly.

And well, with that he had a point.

Tony had that hard expression on his face again, and his voice was cold. This was the way you looked at the mirror, Steve thought. It was seldom kind.

‘Look, really, put yourselves in his shoes,’ Tony said. ‘He’s the disregarded prince and convicted traitor of a realm that doesn’t exist anymore. The realm he does live on he has tried to invade recently. Even if he doesn’t consciously remember it anymore, he _has_ been tortured and mind-controlled just as recently, and that messes with you no matter whether you repress the memory or not. Every single one of the Aesir still alive knows that he is a Frost Giant, and thus practically born to be an enemy to them, and that’s the best case scenario. Worst case scenario, some of them don’t even consider him a person anymore simply because he is, again, a Frost Giant. And most of his family is dead, not that they have given a lot of shits about him in the past. The closest thing he has to anyone who might care even the tiniest little bit about whether he lives or dies is his useless abusive asshole of a brother. Let’s face it, he might run away in-between, or get back at Thor in some other way, but he’s always going to crawl back to the oaf in the end. No matter how Thor will treat him, Loki’s going to do anything, _anything at all_ , not to lose him.’

He shrugged.

‘That’s… surprisingly insightful,’ Nat said, narrowing her eyes at Tony. ‘Are you finally actually talking to your therapist?’

Tony rolled his eyes.

‘Fuck you, Nat,’ he said. ‘In any case, this is all pointless. Loki’s going to stick to Thor until Thor will eventually kill him for good, and that’s going to be the end of it.’

He scratched his head, then abruptly stood up and left the room.

‘I’ll… make sure he calls Rhodey,’ Bruce said after a pause, and left the room too.

There was a moment of silence.

‘Tony’s still taking this pretty hard, isn’t he?’ Steve asked, not really wanting to think about everything Tony had said just now.

Yes, Sanchez had warned them – but Steve just couldn’t… he couldn’t… he just wanted to take Loki away from this place. Away from his brother. Grab him and _run_.

It was surprisingly difficult to accept that this simply wasn’t an option.

‘Yes, well,’ Nat said, looking troubled. For a moment, she also looked like she wanted to elaborate; then she shook her head.

Clint too was frowning.

And Tony had looked so tired. His hands had been shaking again.

‘Is he still working on that prosthesis?’ Steve asked.

‘Yes, it’s just… it’s apparently not that easy to build a bionic prosthesis for an alien,’ Clint said, his frown deepening. ‘It’s not like with Barnes, Loki’s entire nerve system isn’t… look, Tony could explain this better than me, except he just begins rambling when he starts explaining, then has some brilliant idea again and disappears in the lab for another thirty hours or something.’

‘And is he eating and hydrating enough?’ Steve asked. ‘Has he had a relapse? I gather he’s still in therapy, from what you said.’

At least there was that.

‘It’s… a work in progress,’ Nat said, rubbing her eyes. ‘No relapse… yet. Any news from Fulla?’

‘Not much,’ Steve answered, wondering what _work in progress_ meant in Tony’s case. ‘Loki still doesn’t let her examine or treat him. She was able to press more potions on him, with instructions on when and how to take them. Nobody knows whether he follows those instructions though. He’s wearing a glamour too, so I’ve got no idea how he’s really doing. And I’m not sure how much he’s eating either – since my arrival, I haven’t seen him eat more than a few bites at any meal, and I haven’t seen him at many meals either, so nutrition is realistically still a problem.’

Loki had been present at dinner the past few days since Thor’s return. But he was still absent at breakfast and lunch, and the amount he ate was negligible at best.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘Run this by Sanchez, but all in all, I think it’s better if I’m going to stay for a bit. If Thor allows it of course – I still need to talk to him about that. He has… not been in a good mood lately.’

Asgard’s king had arrived by car an hour after Loki had announced him (which said a lot about Loki’s sensitivity to his magic), and he had been tired, tense and testy. He had only grown more irritable since. Apparently, he hated travelling by car, and Steve supposed that at least a bit of his current bad spirits could be traced back to his ongoing grief for Mjolnir.

It was still strange to see Thor without his hammer, almost as if he had lost a limb. He acted like it too sometimes, his fist opening and closing at his side. It seemed to bother him a lot more than being half-blind.

‘I know… I know you need me in the States, but-‘

‘No, I agree,’ Nat said, between worrying her lower lip. ‘Doom has been acting up again, but we have it under control for now. About the infinity gems… we are negotiating with this Dr Strange, and with Wakanda. I think we’ll find a good solution for their protection soon. And I… would sleep better if I had someone to keep an eye on the whole Norse god situation. Consider this a mission, Captain. Fury won’t put up that much of a fight.’

*

Thor found him the next day during a work break. Steve had used the morning to help with the construction work, but was now standing on the street, munching on an apple and shielding his eyes with his hand as he was watching the sun rising behind the mountains, rays of blinding light giving the mountains a strange and diffuse halo, turning them into something almost unreal. Blue, looming spectres. Again, he felt that itch to paint, that pull. He really should not have left his sketchbook behind.

‘Do our ancient guardians please your eye?’ Thor asked, stepping up next to him.

Thor still looked tired, and wary (as always since the incident in New York). But he did look friendlier that particular morning. These past days, his inquiries for how much longer Steve aimed to stay had become less and less veiled.

‘They are magnificent,’ Steve said very earnestly. ‘I would like so very much to paint them – it’s a pity I’ve left all my art supplies in the States.’

‘Mhm,’ Thor said. ‘Yes, you like creating pictures, don’t you, Steve Rogers?’

Steve laughed, ‘Above all else, almost.’

He turned to Thor.

‘Certainly more than fighting.’

Thor regarded him pensively, then nodded.

‘I have been alive for many centuries,’ he said. ‘And yet only now I’m beginning to respect good craftsmanship as I should.’

He looked past Steve at the Aesir still working at the construction site.

‘The disadvantage of living at the court, in a world that was plentiful and rich, was that I took these things for granted, I suppose,’ he said. ‘The luxury was there but not appreciated, or not as much as the glory to be found in battle. But now I see what the craftsmen of Asgard are capable of, how they can build up a new world for us to live in after war and violence has burned down the old one. I finally see how important the bards are for us, because I find we need the music, we need the dancing, we need the stories. Of course we need fighters too.’

He paused, cast his eyes down.

‘But I cannot help but think that maybe our society heaped too much honour on them,’ he said. ‘And too little on other good men and women of Asgard.’

Well, that… was a big step for someone like Thor, Steve had to admit. A significant change in his worldview.

‘I’m glad you can see that now,’ Steve said.

‘I should not be surprised,’ Thor said, smiling dazzlingly again, ‘that my people have nothing but praise to sing about you. You have been very helpful, they tell me, with the children, but also with the building.’

‘It didn’t feel like a duty,’ Steve said earnestly. ‘I just… it is good, working like that sometimes. I feel… comfortable here, Thor. There is something about your people that makes me understand them better even than I understand my own. In a way. I do notice the cultural differences of course.’

‘They share the feeling,’ Thor agreed. ‘They are well aware that you are a stranger, and yet they feel at ease with you, or so they say. They told me in no uncertain terms that they would very much like you to stay. Is… is that why you hesitate to leave?’

Steve swallowed, wondering how dishonest he could be about that.

‘You’ve found me out,’ he said finally with an uncertain smile. ‘I really would like to stay longer, if you don’t mind. The Avengers would prefer that too, incidentally. They want a liaison here. And they would also sleep better if there was someone here to fight with you in case of an attack. We would all like to think that no one will bother you, but I must admit we cannot guarantee it.’

And that at least was not a total lie.

‘I know you can look after yourselves,’ he hurriedly added. ‘But… it might help to have a representative of Earth… Midgard… among you. That way some conflicts might not even need to escalate. And most of your people are not warriors, are they?’

Thor, who had tensed briefly, sighed, and nodded.

‘Nay, they’re not.’

‘Personally,’ Steve said. ‘I think it would do me some good to take some time off of the usual Avengers business. To work with my hands instead. To care for the kids here. To draw a little.’

Thor didn’t answer at once, but kept watching him. They both knew there was another reason for Steve to stay, and Steve wondered whether Thor would point it out.

But then the god simply smiled again, and said, ‘We get a delivery of supplies every week. If you want to stay, you should consider what you want to order so to make your stay here more comfortable. I am sure that drawing materials will be no trouble.’

Then he grimaced.

‘I feel ashamed to have to say so,’ he added. ‘And it speaks badly of New Asgard’s hospitality, but unfortunately, our funds are meagre, and-‘

‘Oh, I’ll pay for them,’ Steve hurried to say. ‘I’ll pay for anything I order, no bother. And for the food I consume too. I’m sorry I didn’t consider that before. And your hospitality is perfect.’

‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ Thor said, looking not a little sad. ‘Unfortunately, I do know better. If this were Asgard, and you my guest, please do believe me that you would lack for nothing. Alas, as this is New Asgard, and as we sink deeper into debt every day, I do what I must, and that is to prune our budget.’

‘Mhm… or that I could forget what I have been,’ Steve said, the verse Loki had quoted suddenly coming back to him. ‘Or not remember what I must be now.’

Thor looked at him strangely.

‘It is a quote from a play,’ Steve clarified. ‘Written by a Midgardian author. About a king who falls from fortune.’

‘And then regains her favour?’ Thor guessed.

Steve shook his head, ‘No. He never does.’

‘A strange subject for a play then,’ Thor said. ‘Should the bards not sing about his glory?’

‘Loki has told me as much,’ Steve said. ‘Apparently, we have a different approach to stories on Midgard than you have on Asgard. Maybe because we are more accustomed to misfortune than you gods are. We read literature in part to understand ourselves better, also in our unhappiness. I… didn’t mean to offend you with this quote if I did. It was merely meant as an expression of sympathy.’

Though in Steve’s experience, an expression of sympathy could offend an Aesir just as much.

Thor didn’t quite look like he understood, but then grinned.

‘I have seen stranger customs on Midgard,’ he said. ‘Have you ever heard about this food called pop tarts?’

And with that, the subject had been successfully changed.

Steve worked late into the evening that day.

He didn’t see Loki at all.


	39. Chapter 39

Now that it was decided that Steve wouldn’t leave soon, the routine he had already fallen into changed a little but got even steadier. He would rise early, together with the family he was living in the same house with, and after a sparse breakfast would help with whatever work he could find. Building, cutting wood, washing clothes, caring for children, cooking – there was always something for him to do.

He took his first real break at sunrise and sat down somewhere with a good view, painting or drawing, whatever felt closer to his longing that day. After lunch he would work on, or just wander through the village, or try to find Loki who remained evasive, New Asgard’s own personal ghost. Loki didn’t run around with his clipboard anymore, but he still could be found sometimes walking all over the village and the surrounding landscape with his eyes closed, probably searching for the old magic residing in this place. Sometimes he helped with construction work, or with the wood cutting. Steve only slowly found out how many hours Loki spent working on the average day (which were many, and far too many for his physical condition) – it was astonishingly easy to overlook the god when he was assisting the other Aesir.

It was the same phenomenon Steve had observed before – Loki did stand straight, in principle, and he was damn tall objectively, but he still looked small, ducked. Trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. And succeeding. The Aesir still moved around him awkwardly, but even they seemed to forget sometimes that he was there.

Steve had tried drawing that posture once or twice, but it was difficult to capture on paper.

Since Steve spent a lot more time with the Aesir common folk than with their royalty, the people got gradually less cautious with their words around him after a while, and working with them or sitting with them and eating, he got a more comprehensive picture of what they thought of Loki and Thor.

Thor was definitely the one they could relate to more easily – despite having been raised at the court, there was a casualness to his manners that was disarming. Nobody ever forgot Thor’s status, but the women didn’t hesitate chatting with him or putting their children into his arms, and the men didn’t hesitate drinking with him or starting arm wrestling (contests that he won of course, but not for lack of trying on his opponents’ sides).

The king’s temper on the contrary was feared, and on the days when Thor was irritable, the people avoided him like the plague.

Loki… was more difficult. There was still a lot of gratitude for his sacrifice among the people, but the way he was creeping about the village was evidently making the Aesir confused and nervous. And while Loki was helpful, even a bit too much so according to some, he certainly wasn’t the _approachable_ type. The only one even less involved in the life of the community was Heimdall, who spent most of his time standing on a high hill above the village from where he could observe the street leading to New Asgard best.

Well, and the Valkyrie, who seemed to spend most of her time on the Statesman, drinking or being passed out from drinking. Thor or Loki had to practically drag her to council meetings by the ears (and Thor sometimes literally did). The people definitely kept their distance to her, and she very much encouraged that.

But with Loki, it was different, maybe because the people couldn’t predict his behaviour like they could Valkyrie’s (it could be summed up to drunk and aggressive) and Heimdall’s (stern and silent).

The awkwardness turned into uneasiness after a while, and soon Steve could hear them making allusions to his Jotnar nature then and again. Jokes that indirectly questioned his masculinity. References to his unreliability. Odin’s death was talked about, and Loki’s role in it. His usurpation of Odin’s throne. The crimes that had led to his imprisonment.

It wasn’t outright hostility – but Loki’s behaviour unsettled them, and the interactions between him and Thor even more so. Those interactions were observed very closely, Steve noticed, and with not a little wariness.

Which made sense since in the past, conflicts between the brothers had led to a lot of suffering for everyone.

In retrospect, it thus also made sense that the next serious incident happened when tensions between Thor and Loki were at a peak again.

Steve didn’t know what the conflict between them was about this time, since neither of them was willing to talk even a little about the matter. But the tension had been rising for a few days, until it was almost tangible as soon as they were within a few feet of each other. Their body language, the looks they shot each other, the way Loki seemed to flinch away from every approach Thor made, the way Thor eyed Loki even more warily than before.

Additionally, tensions rising between the siblings seemed to mean that the probability of random things going wrong rose with them. Steve wasn’t sure whether it was a deliberate way for Loki to lash out or whether it was subconscious magic, but it couldn’t be pure coincidence that as soon as there was conflict between the brothers, pens would stop working, pencils would break, plates would fall to the ground, people would trip more often or rip their clothes on nails. The children were moody and uncontrollable, hyped up and somehow always up to no good. The fish would jump out of the nets back into the sea, and mice would get into the kitchens, eating up bread and cereals. The entire village seemed to be charged with static energy and you could barely touch anything without getting a small shock.

It was more annoying than dangerous, but after ten broken pencils and enough small shocks and after stale bread for breakfast for a few days because all the fresh loafs had been lost to rodents, it got very annoying indeed.

Steve didn’t like it, and he wasn’t the only one.

He also wasn’t the only one who didn’t really know what to do about it, especially since talking to either of the siblings was as pointless as running one’s head against a wall.

*

And then one afternoon, the oldest of Skadi’s kids came running to where Steve and a few villagers were digging the base for a house. Narfi grabbed Steve’s hand, spluttered something about Loki and a fight, and then was already pulling him along. Later on, Steve would wonder why the kid had come to _him_ of all people – to the foreigner. He would wonder what Narfi had actually expected him to do, why the kid had thought that Steve would be in any way helpful in this situation. He was not a healer – he was not even very strong compared to the Aesir. In that particular moment however, there were other things on his mind, and in any case, he was already running.

The kid led him to the Statesman that was standing parked close to the building area Steve had been working at. And they found Loki rather quickly – in the large storage area at the back entrance of the ship.

He was lying curled up on his side on the ground, and Skadi was crouching next to him. A few other Aesir were standing nearby, looking at the scene with visible unease, the rest of Skadi’s children among them.

‘What happened?’ Steve asked, approaching her and Loki. Loki wasn’t unconscious, or not completely. His eyes were half open and he was breathing audibly, his body otherwise unmoving.

As far as Steve could see, he at least wasn’t bleeding (or maybe the glamour was hiding it).

‘He fell,’ Skadi said.

‘Where from?’

Skadi didn’t answer but pointed up to where Valkyrie was looking down at them over the railing, surrounded by more Aesir. A small grid walk was lining the storage hall up there – probably, the higher decks could be accessed from there. How far was the distance from those grids to the ground? Ten metres? Maybe fifteen? Pretty high for a human at least.

For a moment, his eyes locked with the Valkyrie’s. She looked stricken, almost guilty, and then she scowled.

‘He lost his balance,’ she said. ‘It’s not like I could have known. I’m not taking the fucking blame for this.’

Her words were slurred. Drunk again then. The other Aesir were standing close to her, Steve noticed, as if ready to grab and hold her as soon as it became necessary. So she had been the other person in that ‘fight’.

‘Forseti has already run for a healer,’ Skadi said now, and Steve turned to her again.

Loki was licking his lips, Steve noticed, but he was still just staring ahead. His shoulders a bit drawn up.

Steve crouched down too, and then cautiously took Loki by the shoulder.

‘Hey, Loki,’ he said.

But Loki flinched away as soon as Steve touched him, his eyes pressed shut, and for a moment, the appearance flickered, a hint of too sharp cheekbones and colourful bruises, then it was washed away once more by healthy skin. His breathing quickened.

So yes, a glamour.

‘I’m sorry,’ Steve said, withdrew his hand. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. Can you… can you tell me where it hurts?’

Loki didn’t answer. Instead, he started to move, slowly and hesitatingly, his hands looking for purchase on the ground and he pushed himself up. His arms were shaking and he was undoubtedly in pain, but he tensed so visibly at any move to help him that Steve decided to keep a minimum distance, and Skadi did the same. Should Loki fall again, then at least Steve would be close enough to catch him.

Loki didn’t fall. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and then struggled to stand.

‘Maybe you should stay on the floor for now’ Steve said. ‘Just until the healer arrives.’

But he was being ignored.

And then Loki was standing, if very unsteadily. And then he took a step and another and was already limping towards the rear exit of the ship.

‘Loki, wait!’ Steve said, following him. ‘You should really wait for the healer. You might have a concussion! Loki!’

Loki didn’t wait. He just limped on, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Valkyrie called something after them, but Loki didn’t react to that any more than he reacted to Steve.

He just walked on.

His face tense but otherwise strangely blank.

Steve tried to talk to him, to convince him to go to the healing halls, or to at least accept Steve’s support. He could as well have talked to empty air. And with all probability, grabbing him and taking him to the healing halls by force was not that much of a good idea at the moment.

Steve wasn’t at all convinced that Loki was even all there. Who knew what Steve might trigger?

So he followed Loki, followed him up to the front porch of Thor’s house, always staying close enough to be able to catch Loki, should he fall.

Loki didn’t fall.

He didn’t speak either.

He unlocked the door to Thor’s house, using a key he withdrew from a pocket in his armour with a shaking hand, went in and shut the door in Steve’s face before Steve could follow.

*

Steve learned more about the altercation in small morsels as the day went on. Apparently, Valkyrie’s mood had been worsening for a while – basically, too much stale bread, tools breaking and children making trouble everywhere – and on that particular day, there had been a short-circuit on the Statesman that had fried parts of the electronics just as the Valkyrie had been busy fixing another problem.

She had gotten shocked a bit, and she had not been amused. She had also quickly found a target.

According to eye-witnesses, she had shouted at Loki who had been working nearby at the time, accusing him of causing the short-circuit and shoving him. Loki, as to him, had stepped back, had tripped over a tool box and lost his balance. The railing had been too low to keep him safe, having been designed for a smaller species, and so Loki had fallen over it and to the ground below.

An unfortunate accident. More or less.

Thor was not pleased in the least, from what Steve could tell. Angry at Valkyrie for lashing out, angry at Loki for stubbornly refusing to see the healers. At dinner, the king was taciturn and tense, and the Aesir avoided him diligently.

Unsurprisingly, Loki was not present at the meal at all.

*

Skadi was restless when they had finally returned to the house for the night.

‘Modi, why did the scary Valkyrie shove the prince?’ Vali asked, her youngest son.

‘I don’t know, go to bed,’ Skadi bellowed.

‘Why did the prince not fight back?’ Sigrun asked, her daughter. ‘I thought he was a warrior.’

‘Yes, he is. Now stop asking questions, undress and get the washing done!’

‘Why did he refuse to go to the healers?’ Vali asked. ‘They always make you feel better.’

‘What did I say?’ Skadi bellowed. ‘To your rooms, at once!’

Steve helped the sisters getting the children to bed in the end. Their grandfather was still at the Thing Hall – Forseti left to get him as soon as it looked like the children would actually stay in their room, if not asleep yet.

Skadi fell into a chair then, exhausted. There was a deep frown on her face.

Steve could certainly sympathise. He sat down at the table with her.

‘Norns forsaken alcohol,’ she said now. ‘To assault a _prince_! What was that woman thinking? Nothing, nothing at all!’

‘It was an accident,’ Steve said because that was still the official story.

She kneaded the bridge of her nose, shook her head.

Then she stood up, walked up and down the room.

‘And the prince,’ she continued, sounding exasperated. ‘She insults him, shoves him so hard he falls down several decks and what, he just… walks away from that? Without a word? As if… as if that Valkyrie could just… what kind of…’

She shook her head again.

‘And I don’t even understand… he refuses to allow any healers examine him, which would make sense if he were not injured, but if he were not injured, then why did he lie on that floor for several minutes, unmoving? Why did he limp?’

She bit her lip, and her eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown.

‘By the Norns, what is _wrong_ with him, Steve?’ she asked.

The problem was that Steve was pretty sure he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, don't have too high hopes for the Valkyrie at the moment. She is not doing well. And she's not a nice person when she's not doing well.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you - the last chapter of this batch is pretty short, and I'll admit it ends on a pretty sad note too, sry *grimaces*.  
> I don't know when exactly I'll be back with the next batch - it won't be too long, I think, but I might have to edit it some before I can post it, so I might not be quite as quick as with this one.
> 
> Another warning that this fic treats abuse dynamics seriously - which also means that for various reasons, even people who know often won't intervene, or not at first (it will come up in this chapter).
> 
> Also a reminder that I use they/them pronouns. She/her is not the correct pronoun for me.
> 
> black_feather_fiction Valkyrie ramble:  
> I fuelled a lot of Valkyrie hate with the last chapter, which is fair, I guess. I'm not a Valyrie hater, I actually like her as a character, but I'm also not blind to the fact that (like a few of you pointed out correctly) in Ragnarock, she is an alcoholic who has been financing her addiction by slaving people and selling them to a guy who then forced those people to kill each other brutally for the amusement of the masses.  
> She is, objectively speaking, not a good person.   
> She's also a pretty mean drunk.  
> So no, I don't see her doing the right thing (yet). She's too caught up in her alcoholism for now and yeah, I consider her the type of person who will first lash out at the victim and not at the perpetrator. Actually, many people are like that, unfortunately, or we wouldn't be in this mess as a society. So yeah, she fucks up.   
> But she will get there, eventually.  
> Which is honestly more than I can say about other characters in this fic *grimaces* (you'll see in later batches).
> 
> Be safe! Take care of yourself! You deserve nice things!

Loki was nowhere to be seen for a day, and then went back to helping with the construction work as if nothing had happened. His limp was still somewhat noticeable, but he hid it well.

He ignored the wary congratulations on his speedy recovery just as he ignored the Valkyrie who still hadn’t been arrested or charged with anything. To the villagers’ credit, despite the jokes and the comments on Loki’s Jotnar heritage, they didn’t approve of what had happened, not in the least. They avoided the Valkyrie even more than they had before, told the children to keep their distance to her and whispered to each other, discussing whether or not what she had done constituted treason. They were not sure. If this had happened during warrior’s training, then it would have been fine, they said. But assaulting royalty outside the sparring ring, even if it had been something as seemingly harmless as a shove… apparently, it helped a bit that the Valkyrie was of high social standing. But still… people murmured that the king had wanted to make the Valkyrie face judgement originally, but that Loki had intervened in her favour, which didn’t make anything better in their opinion but only bolstered their confusion.

Thor, unsurprisingly, didn’t like to talk about the matter.

Loki liked to talk about it even less.

It was a weird, awkward situation that nobody really liked and that the Valkyrie coped with by drinking even more and becoming even ruder. She seemed pretty content with being shunned, locking herself up in her quarters in the Statesman and only emerging to get more alcohol – or maybe she was just hiding away. Steve tried to talk to her, but he got nothing out of it except a ‘fuck off’ and a door slammed in his face.

So nothing was going very well, in Steve’s opinion.

Which he should have expected, he supposed.

The Aesir made an effort to give the prince less bodily straining work, probably having their very reasonable doubts about his health, but Loki danced around those efforts easily and did the heavy lifting anyway. And he _was_ in pain. He tried to disguise it, but by now Steve could see it anyway, especially when he was carrying heavy logs of wood around. And Loki’s sway in his walk was more noticeable; he also seemed to have spouts of dizziness from time to time, and he got out of breath far too easily. Everything covered up just as quickly. Judging from the disapproving looks in his direction, quite a few of the Aesir weren’t fooled.

At least, the conflict between him and Thor had abated. Well, somewhat. For now, pens worked again, the fish stayed in the nets, and the children became easier to manage. So that was something.

However, Thor’s mood remained… changeable. Worryingly so. One day, Steve watched him speak to his brother softly, warmly, telling him to eat more, to take better care of himself. He could watch Thor as he cupped Loki’s neck, leaning their foreheads together, murmuring things to him that Steve couldn’t catch but that made Loki ease up just a little. Another day, he barked at Loki, called him a liar in front of a group of very bewildered fishermen.

And Steve could see Loki’s shoulders go up at the word Lie-Smith, and Steve could see him relax a little at every soft word, but still watching Thor carefully.

Always vigilant. Always waiting for the next blow.

Steve had thought about that – about what he had seen flicker over Loki’s face, the bruises. And the instant had been so short that he didn’t even know whether he remembered correctly. But in any case, they had been on the wrong side of Loki’s body to have been caused by the fall. And not all of them had been fresh either.

And yet not old enough.

Thor and Loki were living in the same house. Nobody had to tell Steve how probable it was that Thor hadn’t lashed out since Loki’s arrival.

Steve took care for a while to stay close at meals to the family living in the house next door to Thor’s. He didn’t interrogate them. He barely ever even talked to them – he just listened. And the subject eventually came up anyway, in cautious comments when they thought nobody was paying attention.

The noise of shouting. Of something crashing to the ground and breaking. What they could discern behind windows.

They didn’t like it. They didn’t know what to do.

This wasn’t their business, the father of the family whispered to the rest sternly. They should just shut up and stay out of the affairs of royalty.

This wasn’t their world.


End file.
